


Painting Greys

by Pie_pecans_and_parrots



Series: Color Me In [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Canon Compliant, Child Abuse, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt Billy Hargrove, Mild Language, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Painting, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Poor Billy, Possessive Billy Hargrove, Racism, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Swearing, Teen Romance, a soft girl, jenny is an artist, other ocs mentioned - Freeform, part of chaos universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2019-11-28 15:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18209921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pie_pecans_and_parrots/pseuds/Pie_pecans_and_parrots
Summary: Jennifer McCaine was used to being invisible.She painted her life in shades of grey, and she was trying to come to terms with it when Billy Hargrove, a boy full of reds and blues made her reevaluate what it meant to live in technicolor.





	1. 60 Seconds

“ _Move_.”

Jennifer McClaine stepped out of the way of her twin dutifully. Tina – hotter, taller, stronger, slightly older, infinitely more popular and just _better_ – took her place in front of the mirror to fluff her bangs and check her mascara. Jennifer watched her as she brushed her teeth, wondering – not for the first time, how her sister had gotten all the best genes. Tina caught her gaze in the mirror. “What?”

She shrugged. “Nothing.” She gargled through a mouth full of toothpaste foam. Tina shot her an irritated look and brushed past her again.

Before she left the bathroom, she stuck her head back in. “Don’t forget that the party is on Saturday night – so, like, make yourself scarce.” She was gone the next second, wriggling her fingers in a mock farewell.

Jennifer spat out her toothpaste – making eye contact with her own reflection in the mirror as she straightened. “Scarce.” She mumbled, smiling slightly. Even if her sister had invited her – she probably wouldn’t have gone. Big crowds of people she didn’t know plus alcohol wasn’t her idea of fun. And besides – the people her sister hung out with weren’t exactly the… nicest. She grimaced, remembering how long it had taken to get the smell of old milk out of her favourite sweater after Tommy H had thrown a carton of the stuff at her last term. Hopefully this year, things would be different. Hopefully they were tired of teasing her – in their slightly aggressive way, with all the outward appearances of joking with ‘ _Tina’s teeny twin_.’

She ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the knots that had formed as she had slept – and piling it on top of her head in something that could be barely called a bun. It always took too much effort to style her hair – and she didn’t know how her sister managed to do it every day. She held it in place with one of her favourite scrunchies – the one with tiny sunflowers printed on the blue fabric. She looked tired. That was her own fault.

Prioritising her paintings over sleep always bit her in the ass – and last night was no exception. She scrunched up her nose at herself – poking at her unfortunate splattering of freckles just under her dark circles.

_Not beautiful. Not like Tina._

Even her parents said it. Not in so many words, but – “ _you and your sister couldn’t be any more different!”_ was pretty clear.

She sighed, and turned away from her reflection. Spiralling down into the clichéd half-jealous half-depressed spiel that came with being the lesser twin always took up more time than it should – and she really didn’t want to be late on her first day. She lamented her lot in life too much already – though she supposed it came with the whole ‘tortured artist’ thing.

She grinned to herself as she got dressed. _At least her teenage angst was at normal levels._

 

* * *

 

Her sister vaulted out of the car before she had even turned the engine off – hurrying away from her and towards her friends; Carol and Vicki.

Jennifer took the sudden absence of her sister to turn down the volume of the radio, and switch it to her own cassette. The Smith’s lead, Morrissey crooned to her, and she closed her eyes briefly, soaking in her emotions. She was nervous – obviously – but also excited. This year, her parents had let her choose any electives she had wanted. That meant that this year – she got to spend a good chunk of her time in the studios. She’d chosen studio art, and general arts, as well as art history – which meant that apart from English, math and gym – she’d be doing what she loved.

Sure – three folio subjects would probably end up in her wanting to gouge her eyes out with the ends of her brushes – but she would rather do that than science or normal history, or _, god-forbid_ , advanced calculus.

From her vantage point of peace – she could see over the whole parking lot. She could see her sister, next to Carol – fulfilling her role as a dutiful minion, she could see the group of programming students in awe around a new floppy disk, Nancy Wheeler and the ex-king of the school, Steve Harrington pulling up in his car, Jonathan Byers struggling with his camera and folio, and Charlotte Henderson lighting a cigarette, sitting on the hood of his beat-up car.

Everything seemed as it should be.

The only thing out of place was the growling roar of an engine, rising over her music. Squinting, she turned off her tape – just as a shimmering blue mirage of a car, a Camaro of some kind, pulled into the parking lot with a loud squeal of the tires.

Almost warily, she rolled down her window – catching the faint scent of burnt rubber before it was snatched away.

She wasn’t the only curious one – as Steve and Nancy hung out of their car, Carol, Vicki and her sister watching in interest, and Charlotte lowering her sunglasses to peer over at the car. The sudden slamming of the car door drew her attention back to the Camaro, as a tall red-headed girl zoomed off on her skateboard, heading decidedly towards the Middle School just off campus. The driver’s side door was on the opposite side to her, and at first all she could see was the back of a curly head of blonde hair and a broad back – and the awed, predatory expressions of the girls within view.

Then the mystery driver turned – and Jennifer recoiled slightly. He was… gorgeous. Gorgeous with eyes like pieces of the sky, framed by the lashes that cosmetic companies advertised, the kind of handsome, strong jawed Prince-handsome type of look that girls dreamed about, lips the colour of roses-

And for all that beauty – Jennifer could see the same fear she saw in her own eyes.

That underlying self-doubt, the need to please, the terror that someone might know how little you were worth. And then he stopped being so intimidatingly handsome – though still breathtaking – because a little seed of pity sparked in her, because she knew what he thought he had to do next. Popularity was self-hatred’s medicine, and its poison.

But this Prince Charming was going to go straight to the top – as fast and as hard as he could. Because he was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t.

 

* * *

 

Her sister’s party flyers were everywhere – everyone who was anyone was clutching at the orange paper, like it was a lifeline.

Charlotte Henderson had already discarded hers – using it as a sort of paint rag during their shared Art class, smears of purple and green marring the black writing. It was mandatory for students to choose at least one art subject – and whilst most did general arts in order to get an easy A; because as long as you could justify what you did as art, you would pass. For some reason – Charlotte had selected studio art, and Jennifer had been in the same art class as Charlotte long enough to know that she had zero affinity with a paintbrush. Or a pencil. Or a even a crayon, for that matter.

She ducked behind her easel as the newly blonde girl stood up with an unhappy pout, hands full of dirty pallets and paintbrushes. “I give up!” she proclaimed loudly, making Mrs. Roberts sigh long-sufferingly. “Geeze – you arty types sure make it look easy.” Charlotte continued slightly wistfully, casting her eyes over the other’s works.

No one responded, but there was a faint air of amusement in the room. Charlotte was still kind of an ‘it’ kid, even after her fall from grace alongside Steve Harrington, but in this class, she was like the slow cousin everyone pitied and hung out with to make their moms happy. Jennifer had always liked her. She had always been nice to her, even if she couldn’t remember Jennifer’s name.

Jennifer didn’t take it personally – because she knew that Charlotte also forgot Tina’s name, and they had been in the same clique for years. And if anyone was forgettable, it was her.

She turned her attention back to her painting as Charlotte approached her. Sitting right at the back next to the sinks, it was inevitable, but Jennifer still shrank away as the other girl approached, bright green eyes blinking at her work curiously.

Charlotte’s appreciative hum was enough to make her blush, brush stilling in the middle of a stroke. “That’s fucking awesome.” Charlotte said with a grin. “How’d you make the flowers look alive?”

Jennifer cleared her throat, casting a critical eye over the fields of roses and forget-me-nots, the pinks and blues bright against the green of the grass. The colours wouldn’t leave her mind – and yet her sky was grey, storm clouds gathering on her artificial horizon. She had already begun to incorporate tiny slashes of rain drops on the canvas, smearing the most distant flowers. Before she could respond to the girl – Mrs. Roberts clapped her hands once, making both of them jump.

“Back to your seat, Miss Henderson.”

Charlotte grumbled something, dumping her things in the sink before wandering back to her chair, almost immediately striking up an argument with the disgruntled art teacher about her rights as a citizen. Jennifer wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed she hadn’t answered Charlotte. Jennifer had always thought she was intimidating – especially now, more so since Will Byers had disappeared last year. Charlotte had slowly grown into someone different, someone with a strange steeliness in her eyes that made Carol look tame. It was the same in Nancy Wheeler, and even in Jonathan and Steve to a lesser extent.

When Tina had had Carol and Vicki over for a sleepover once over the summer, Jennifer had heard them talk about it. How weird they were now, how freaky, how _strange._

Jennifer dug her brush into her pool of grey paint a little too deeply – and lost her train of thought, preoccupied with the splodge of grey she had almost made.

Painting greys was always risky – lest she ruin the colour.


	2. Blue From Yellow

Jennifer could feel the floor shake with the bass of the music below her.

Lying spreadeagled on her hardwood floor, she could feel the song reverberate through her, shaking her bones, ringing through her bloodstream, turning her brain to mush with the noise of it all.

It was almost loud enough to drown out the sounds of teenage partying – the squeals and yelling, the chanting and praising. Not long after the party had started – a raucous round of yells for ‘ _Billy! Billy! Billy – the Keg King!’_ had exploded through the house.

 _Billy Hargrove_.

She mouthed the shape of it, tracing the letters with her pointer finger on the wood beneath her.

_Billy Hargrove, the King of Hawkins._

There were footsteps on the landing – whispering giggles and groans that were close enough to be heard. Then they were outside her door.

“Wait, baby – this one says off limits.” It was a girl – high and breathy. Then a thud, as something collided with her door – making her flinch.

“Yeah, but the hallway isn’t.” a boy – cocky and self-assured, and then wet noises, and a high moan from the girl, and the rustling of clothes. Jennifer wanted to scream, wanted to throw her door open and tell them to get lost.

But she didn’t – because she was a coward.

Instead, she crawled over to her speakers, tugging her watercolours with her – putting on her headphones and plugging them in and turning the volume up high. She lost herself – she painted a mass of bodies, coloured yellow and green – sickly with the closeness and the drunkenness of the populace on the paper.

 

* * *

 

She woke up hours later – the sudden thud of her sketchbook falling off her lap making her eyes fly open. She had somehow propped herself against her speakers – music still filtering softly out of her headphones that had slipped off her head.

Her clock told her it was nearing three in the morning – and the house was still. She got to her feet quietly, and tip-toed from her room, furtively peering around. Her sister wasn’t in her room – and she assumed that she had gone with that basketball player she liked back to his house.

The mess had even made it way upstairs, cans, red cups, even a condom wrapper; all strewn about on the upstairs floor – the bathroom door ajar, and even from her position just outside her room, she could smell the stale stench of vomit. She wrinkled her nose, and headed for the room gingerly – breathing shallowly through her mouth as she crouched to retrieve some cleaning products from under the sink.

Slowly and methodically, she made her way down and through the house, armed with a garbage bag and disinfecting surface spray – trying her best to get rid of the evidence of the party that had essentially destroyed her house. It was only when she was tidying up cups left on her backyard table, did she realise that she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

“ _Unnnggg…”_

She jumped – letting out a squeak of fear at the low groan that had come from the bushes. Cautiously, she tiptoed over to the bush. “Oh my god.” She clapped a hand over her mouth involuntarily as she spotted the pair of boots sticking out of the bush. Horrified, she hurried over, pushing aside the branches to reveal the long stretched out form of _someone,_ lying in a pool of vomit, stirring weakly. “Holy shit.” She muttered, crouching and pushing at the boy immediately. If he drowned in his own vomit, in her backyard – she didn’t know what she would do. Rolling the boy over, she pushed back the flop of blonde curls, revealing – “Billy.” She said in surprise. The boy – Billy – groaned in response to his name, eyes half-opening, the pupils rolling crazily. He gagged again, suddenly, making a choking noise, and she leapt backwards as he vomited weakly – his body clearly performing automatically. It spilled down the side of his face, and she wrinkled her nose. “Oh… it’s gonna be okay…” she murmured soothingly, as he hiccupped with a noise of distress.

He was shivering – she noticed – naked from the waist up, and she wondered if he had done it himself, or if someone had undressed him. She hoped no one had. Especially not if he was in this state. She crouched back down again. “Hey, Billy… can you hear me?” he hummed noncommittally – and she took that as an affirmative. “I want to get you inside okay, but I can’t do it by myself – can you stand for me? If I help you?”

He grunted – and Jennifer bit her lip. She didn’t know if she could get him upright, if he could stay on his feet long enough to get inside, but she had to try. He looked really bad – pale and shivering and covered in vomit. All she wanted to do was call an ambulance and cry because even when she had put her sister to bed after parties, Tina had never been this bad.

She inched herself as much under him as she could, and digging her heels in – managed to sit him up. He made a gagging sound and she flinched, but didn’t back away. Luckily for her, and her pyjamas – he swallowed it down. Slowly and shakily, she managed to haul him up – Billy clearly trying hard to get up on his feet. It didn’t help that he was quite a lot taller and broader than her – and she was just about ready to give up by the time they had made it back into the house – but one look at the puke on his face and chest and even matted into his hair, was enough to spur her on.

He stunk – an awful mix of too strong cologne and cigarette smoke, and cheap beer, and acrid vomit.

It took all of her energy to get him upstairs – and she all but dumped him on the bathroom floor, hoping he wouldn’t vomit again and ruin the newly clean toilet. She filled a cup with water and placed it beside him. “Um. Drink this. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please don’t, like, die or something.” Jennifer ran from the bathroom, skidding on the stairs – as she continued to clean, as much as she could, and then ducked into her room, searching through her cupboard and pulling out an old sweater she had bought at an op-shop a few years earlier.

She stomped back towards the bathroom, beginning to feel the effects of the late night, and a slight irritation that this was how she was spending her Saturday night – looking after some asshole who drank himself half to death. Throwing open the bathroom door with a bang, she opened her mouth to snap at the boy, who had managed to spill the water whilst she had been gone – but stopped dead at the sight of him.

He was… crying.

Her heart dropped, and guilt filled her stomach as she dropped to her knees beside him, her PJ pants instantly soaking up the cold water. She fluttered her hands over him helplessly – too afraid to touch, too afraid to leave him alone. “Are you okay? Where are you hurt? Did-”

“ _Do_ -don’t tell m’dad…” he slurred weakly, a tight sob making his voice break. “He’ll _kill_ me… don’t tell-don’t my dad, don’t-”

“It’s okay! I won’t tell your dad.” Jennifer hushed him, smiling slightly. “I’m sure he would just be happy that you’re okay. I’m just glad you’re talking – I thought for a second I’d have to call-”

“ _No police.”_ His eyes suddenly focussed on her with startling intensity. He slumped back the next second. “No police…” he repeated weakly.

“Okay…” she murmured. She reached over him, and turned on the faucet behind him. “Can you lean your head back?” she asked gently, pushing lightly at his forehead. He went obediently, eyes falling shut as she yanked at the detachable shower head and ran water over his hair.

With one hand and an old washcloth, she cleaned off the vomit from his face and chest and shampooed it out of his hair. When she was done, she roughly towel dried his hair, and dressed him in the old sweater, having a sudden flash of déjà vu to when she and her sister would give their barbie dolls spa treatments when they were little.

The water seemed to have sobered him up a little, because when she looked up from mopping up the spilt water, he was watching her with unfocussed eyes. “Who’re you?” he asked.

She smiled slightly. “Jenny.” She supplied – and promptly coloured as she realised she’d given him a childhood nickname.

“Jenny.” He repeated, nodding.

Jennifer heaved a breath and stood up. “Yep. Come on, Keg King, let’s get you to bed.” He tried to stand on his own this time, as graceful as a new born deer, stumbling and shaking. She sighed again and wrapped an arm around his torso, noticing how the sweater was just a little small, and showed the occasional sliver of his toned torso over his jeans. Perhaps it was the late hour, the bizarreness of the situation, but she giggled as they rounded the corner to her room.

“ _Hey._ ” He grumbled, eyes closed again – but somehow still aware that she was laughing at him.

“Sorry.” She apologized insincerely, and kicked shut her bedroom door behind them. “Um.” She looked at her single bed longingly. After a long moment, and internal debate, she groaned. “ _Fine_. You’re on the bed, champ. I’ll take the floor. _Again_.” she muttered to herself, using her free hand to rub at her already aching neck. She dropped him half on the mattress, and he collapsed face first, snoring almost immediately.

After turning his head slightly to make sure he didn’t accidentally smother himself whilst asleep, she pulled a pillow out from under him, and curled up on her rug, focussing blearily on his sleeping face.

_Hopefully he wouldn’t die in the night._

At the sudden morbid thought, she blanched, and resolved to stay up to watch him. Her resolve only lasted a few minutes and as the clock ticked over four a.m., her eyes slid shut involuntarily.

 

* * *

 

The morning sun streaming down onto her face woke her – and she sat up slowly, stretching as her muscles twinged in protest, her dry cottony mouth making her smack her lips in discomfort. Rubbing her eyes, she reached for her bedside table – waking further as her hands encountered nothing but air.

She realised then, that she was on the floor – which explained why her back hurt, and-

_Where was Billy?_

She jumped up, eyes going wide as she realised that the boy wasn’t where she had left him. A sick feeling of worry made her hurry from the room – dreading finding him collapsed somewhere, somehow fallen down the stairs, or bleeding on her bathroom floor from a drunken misstep and fall-

But he was nowhere upstairs.

She ran down the stairs and rounded the corner – to find her sister hunched over a cup of coffee at the kitchen island. Tina raised her head, glaring. “Could you _not_ stomp around like a elephant.”

“It’s you.” Jennifer replied in surprise.

Tina raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, who else? Mom and Dad aren’t home until Monday night.”

“ _Just_ you?” Jennifer asked – eyes roving around for any evidence of another person.

Tina stood, picking up her mug and moving past Jennifer, shoving her out of the way slightly. “You’re too weird. I’m going for a shower, loser.”

Jennifer blinked rapidly. She hadn’t even heard him leave.

A tiny pinch of irritation made her worry fade.

_He hadn’t even said thank you. He hadn’t even said goodbye. Asshole._


	3. Blood on the Grass/Red and Green

Jennifer had gone to school in a daze – due to her pulling an all-nighter, both to finish an essay and to finish a painting she hadn’t touched in months. It had been the sunlight coming through her window and her alarm going off that had let her know that the night had slipped past her.

She was distracted, clumsy, dropping her breakfast off her plate before she could eat, her book bag slipping off her shoulder and onto the ground, crashing into someone in the hallway because she had closed her eyes for a second too long, and-

“Watch where you’re going-” it was the way the growling voice cut off sharply that made her focus on the person she’d walked into, dragging her eyes up from her books strewn across the floor.

Billy Hargrove was staring at her. His mouth was still open – literally frozen mid sentence.

Part of her knew that she should feel something at this random interaction. Anger – for his rude disappearance after the party, guilt for walking into him, amusement at his expression as it flickered. He clearly didn’t know how to react to seeing her either. She just stared, too tired to speak.

Luckily – or unluckily – Tina piped up. “Oh my _gosh_ , Billy… wow, hi. I am _so_ sorry my klutzy sister _assaulted_ you like that.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, inserting herself neatly in-between them. Jennifer took the opportunity to blink the sleepiness away, ducking around the pair of them to gather her books.

Billy had shifted at her sister’s approach, leaning his hip against the locker in a way that neatly extended the perfect lines of his body. Jennifer thought he _had_ to have been artistically inclined to be aware of his aesthetic value in such a way – although, she figured, he could also just be very, very vain. She figured it was the latter.

“It’s fine.” His voice had gone low and smooth. Unbidden, her mind supplied the sound of his sobs. So alien. “I was too busy starin’ at you anyway… my fault.”

Tina giggled dumbly, half-gasping at the force of his charm. Jennifer didn’t linger – and walked away from them, feeling a vague sense of disappointment at the meeting. Something should have happened then. A fight, a greeting, a thank-you – an _acknowledgement_ of their time together.

Of course, she had never been too good at human interaction – so how would she know what was missing.

She turned the corner, the sound of her sister’s high false laughter ringing in her ears.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day trickled past in leaps and stagnant moments – lunch was spent locked in the art rooms as usual, English was spent staring at the patch of flowers struggling to grow on the grass outside the window, gym was spent flinching away from every moving object going faster than a snail. Maths was just… _terrible_. Because she hadn’t done the homework – but she also had somehow misplaced her textbook, and had to endure an hour of her math teacher staring daggers at her.

But finally, it ended.

The final bell made her heart skip a beat as usual – but for joy, rather than anxiety. She didn’t think she had ever moved so quickly as she gathered her things and practically ran from the building, out from the campus and towards her car.

Somehow her sister had already made it, laughing with Carol. Jennifer repressed a sigh. She was obviously chaperone for the afternoon.

“Jen! Great – we’re heading to the diner, and we’ll probably get a ride home later so if we don’t call then don’t come to get us.” Tina said sharply, straightening up with an expectant smile.

“You’ll probably be at _Billy’s_ …” Carol sung obnoxiously – making Tina fake gasp and shove her lightly.

“Oh my gosh, Carol! Shut _up_. I don’t even know if he likes me…”

Carol squealed as they got into the car. “He _soooo_ does! I could see him flirting with you so hard this morning! And God knows that Charlotte isn’t as hot as you…”

Tina giggled giddily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yeah you’re right – he’s totally into me.” She sighed. “I just wonder if mom and dad are gonna like him. He’s such a bad boy.”

“So hot though.” Carol nodded sympathetically.

“Yeah – so hot. Have you _seen_ his ass?”

The girls in the backseat descended into giggles and gossip – the vague objectification of the newest kid in town making Jennifer slightly uncomfortable. Couldn’t they see? Couldn’t they see how lonely he was?

She stepped on the gas – speeding slightly as she rocketed towards the popular diner on the edge of Hawkins.

 

* * *

 

The next day went by in vastly the same way – minus any unexpected hiccups in the hallway, though her maths textbook was still missing – and when she got home, after dropping Carol and Tina off, she went back to her newest painting, just like she had the afternoon before.

To her sister and her mother, being alone was like death – if there was no one to talk to, they got steadily crazier by the minute. Jennifer favoured her father; in that an empty house was peace, and solitude was inspiration and the best kind of quiet.

It was because she had taken herself to the garden, set up her easel on the grass, a cup of tea and a mug of water next to her, already coloured purple from her paintbrushes – that she could hear the loud grumble of a car engine pulling up outside her house. The car itself had roared down the street twice before it had stopped, and Jennifer had thought that it was another bunch of kids drag racing along the road.

Tina had probably gotten a ride from whatever basketball star had decided to show off his car. She got up, and made her way back inside to let her sister in – hoping that she wasn’t planning to take advantage of the empty house with whoever had driven her home. Jennifer blanched at the memory of almost walking in on her sister last time.

She opened the door; eyes meeting, as she had expected – the tall form of a boy. But – no Tina.

And when Billy Hargrove turned to face her, Jennifer was hard pressed to stop from screaming in surprise. They stared at each other, Billy looking equal parts nonchalant and awkward, Jennifer unsure whether she was more concerned about his bloody lip and blooming bruise, or the fact that he was _there_. Like, _right there_ on her doorstep.

“Um – can I help you?” She asked quietly. “Tina’s, uh, not here?” it came out as a question. Billy just watched her, and – shrugged. Actually _shrugged_. For some reason, it irritated her. Was _she_ supposed to know why he was there? She frowned, and started to close the door again. “Good to see you, I guess.”

His hand darted out, and stopped the door. “Do you have a band-aid or somethin’?”

She blinked, nonplussed. “Y-yes.” She didn’t know what possessed her, as she stepped back, and gave him room to enter her house. He looked entirely out of place against her yellow walls and cozy throws, embroidered quotes on the wall behind him – and him in a leather jacket and a shirt half-undone, smelling a little like blood and a lot like cigarettes. As his hand came up – nervously, she realised – to push back his hair, she noticed the mess of his knuckles. It looked like he’d spent the last hour punching a wall. Against her will, she felt herself softening. “I’ll just go and get the first aid kit.” She hurried away from him, hoping he’d stay exactly where she had left him.

Of course – he hadn’t.

He had made his way into the kitchen, and was staring hard at her fridge – and it took her a second to realise that he was looking at the three portraits she had sketched of her sister and parents. She made an ugly squawking sound, and hurried towards the fridge, yanking them down. “That’s – well, they’re from like, seventh grade, they’re not good – I mean, well, you know…” He was watching her, silently again. She took a deep breath. “You know – actually. Um. I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She said firmly, and slowly, pinned them back.

When she looked back at him, the faintest curve to his lip was making blood trickle down his chin from where he’d re-opened the cut. She was torn between telling him not to make fun of her, and to hurry and dab away the blood. She settled for methodically setting out what she would need, and making her way over to him, pulling his hands towards her first, ignoring the odd feeling of seeing how much bigger his were compared to hers, and cleaning out the wound. She flushed out dirt and a little -  “Is that _cement_?” she asked, glancing up at him in surprise.

“Yeah.” He shrugged again.

“What – you know what, I don’t want to know.” She said, shaking her head. Honestly, it looked like he’d gotten into a fight, and yet – had spent energy punching up a _wall_ of all things. He was just getting more confusing by the second, and evermore irritating.

“Good. You wouldn’t like it if you knew.” He smirked at her, and for a second, it was hard to look at him, at all his handsomeness up close – the force of his artificial charm right in front of her. But behind it, she could see the strain in his cheeks, the faint darkness in his eyes, the tense set of his jaw.  

“It looks like you got beat up, and then beat up a wall.” She said succinctly, ignoring his hiss as she dabbed alcohol on the torn up skin. “Looks like you’re a sore loser – and not as tough as you think.”

Billy’s face contorted, and at the sudden flash of hot, hot anger – she knew she’d hit a sore point. “And you’re a loser, _princess_ , and not as good as you think you are.” She couldn’t deny the hurt that made her stomach twist. She smiled anyway, and set his hand down. She met his gaze full-on, unafraid of the raging bull.

_She just felt sorry for him._

“Thanks for coming by.” She said simply, and stood, packing up the kit.

He stood up, seemingly confused and angry at her response. “That’s it?” he asked – and she got it, she understood that this boy was used to confrontation, was probably craving it; wanting some sort of normalcy, because obviously, even _he_ didn’t know why he was here, in her kitchen, letting her, a _loser,_ a _stranger_ , clean his wounds.

“Yeah. Um. You know where the door is.”

She didn’t expect him to follow her out into the garden, stomping his way after her like some sort of enraged elephant. She ignored him as he trampled unforgivingly over her grass, but as he hovered over her as she took a seat at her easel, _almost_ knocking over her tea – now cold, but that wasn’t the _point_ – she turned to him. “If you’re going to stay, just sit and be quiet.” She wasn’t snappy, she wasn’t harsh – she didn’t give him what he wanted; a fight, or really, much attention at all – turning back to her painting.

He loomed over her for a second longer, and she just waited – waited for him to storm out or-

Billy took a seat on the grass; flopped down really – like all his strings had been cut. He looked unhappy about it, muttering something, his brow furrowed and his eyes dark. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, a small smile growing unbidden on her lips.

_That was surprising._

She sat and painted, he sat and stewed – but as the sun dipped under the horizon, leaving everything in a faint orange-pink glow – he started to watch the sky, falling back flat on his back with a faint wince. His shirt had ridden up, and Jennifer hadn’t meant to stare – didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she could see, stretching across his hip and up out of view; a dark, yellowing bruise.

She looked back at his face, meeting his gaze and looking away quickly, cheeks burning. He shifted – and she realised he was tugging his shirt down over the bruise, hiding it away.

Neither of them said anything – and yet, Jennifer had the oddest feeling that she had seen something she wasn’t supposed to.

It was an odd evening; but not in a bad way – she supposed – as Billy’s eyes grew a little heavier with the darkening of the sky, and eventually, he was dozing beside her on the grass – not even stirring as she got up to switch on the outside light.

He was gone though – when she returned from letting her sister in, just before dinner – the only evidence that he had been there at all, the patch of crushed glass where he’d been lying, and the bloody rag in her kitchen bin.

Jennifer dreamt of bloody knuckles, and an angry dog, chasing it’s own tail relentlessly.


	4. A Disconcerting Regularity

 School was… strange.

For one – the whispers about Charlotte and Billy had stopped, in favour for wondering how the king of the school himself had gotten the bruise on his face – and Charlotte wasn’t in art class. In fact, she wasn’t in _any_ class. Even Steve Harrington seemed out of sorts, muttering to himself in gym, and glaring at Billy, who glared back at him. Though – the two had been butting heads since Billy had arrived, so Jennifer wasn’t so surprised at that.

But the weirdest part of her day, by far, was just after lunch.

She had been taking her time getting to math – not exactly looking forwards to _another_ telling off about her lost textbook – and had been dawdling along, kicking at a balled-up bit of paper on the ground. She was so focussed on her little game, that – for the second time that week – she walked right into Billy.

In her defence; he had been standing directly outside of her classroom door, scowling, like some kind of angry wall. She didn’t think she could have avoided him if she had tried.

She resounded neatly off of his chest, stumbling a little and looking at him sheepishly. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.” She said, grimacing. Just like in her kitchen, his lips twitched, brow smoothing slightly.

Then, without warning, he shoved something at her. She jumped a little, at his sudden movement – and it took a second to realise what she was looking at. Her not-so-lost textbook. “You know, you’d probably do better at math if you actually _did_ the work.” He said sardonically, wiggling it at her when she made no move to take it.

She stared, cheeks colouring – torn between surprise and annoyance. Her annoyance won out; “Um, I’m doing just _fine_ , thank you very much.” She snatched it out of his grip, idly flicking through the pages. As he’d pointed out – rudely and unnecessarily – the pages of the book were mostly filled with doodles, rather than any actual work.

“I like the one on page 42.” He said suddenly, and she felt her cheeks redden further. He smirked at her. “Your rendering of Mr. Jackson is… pretty spot-on.”

She scowled at him. “Surprised you even know what the word rendering means.” She snapped, before she could stop herself.

His face darkened, and she shut her mouth hastily. “Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know, _princess_.” He said mockingly and shoved roughly past her. She turned to watch his abrupt exit guiltily.

_Well handled, Jenny._

She sighed, and rubbed at her forehead tiredly. She hadn’t even said thank you. _Idiot._ She lingered for a moment longer, out of some silly hope that he’d come back, so she could apologize. But no such miracle happened, and as the tardy bell rang, she slunk into class, guilt still burning a hole in her gut.

 

* * *

 

She was finishing her lonely dinner that night – parents on their Friday date night, her sister at Carol’s house – when there was a loud and sudden knock on her sliding door. She gasped at the sudden sound, whirling to look out at her garden – heart racing. For a second, her stomach dropped in fright, unable to make out much of the imposing figure hovering outside in the dark through the glare of the kitchen light. After another moment of her being impossibly frightened, eyes darting towards the phone on the wall – weighing her chances of running to call the cops before the figure broke through the glass, or something – there was another knock. Irritated. And then, they held up a mug – one of her mugs, accidentally forgotten outside. Sliding off her seat hesitantly, the glare shifted, and she made out the familiar scowl of Billy Hargrove.

“What on earth…” she muttered to herself, hurrying towards the door and unlocking it. He pushed it open impatiently, and stalked into the kitchen, slamming the mug into the sink.

“You shouldn’t leave dishes outside.” He said, turning back to her and crossing his arms.

Jennifer blinked dumbly. _Was she in some kind of alternate universe? Why the hell was Billy in her kitchen… again? _“Uh.” She shook her head, “sorry – I mean… what are-” she stopped herself, taking in his appearance properly. He looked… ruffled – more ruffled than he should from merely jumping her fence – and a little cold. His crossed arms were more like a hug, as if he was trying to keep his torso warm. He didn’t have a jacket on, just a thin looking black t-shirt. And there was a defensive tightness to his shoulders that belied the way he had confidently pranced into her kitchen. She bit her lip, and took a breath. “Do you want some dinner?” she offered, swallowing down any and all indignant enquires she wanted to ask. She slid the door shut behind her, locking it with a click, eyes still fixed on him.

He dropped his arms at the sound. For a second, he looked a little lost – as if _expecting_ her confronting questions. But then his shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. “As long as it’s not a casserole.” He said a little snidely, following her movements as she moved towards and around him to the stove.

“It’s soup.” She offered gently, tilting the pot towards him. In response, he took a seat, at the stool next to her own place. She turned to the stove, turning the gas back on, and hiding her faint wary confusion. They weren’t friends, they weren’t enemies – she hoped – they weren’t really _anything_ ; and yet… here he was, at her house again, for some reason, seeking _something_.

She set the steaming bowl in front of him, taking her dish to the sink as he dug in with a sudden savagery, as if he had been starving. She washed it slowly, watching him over the tap as he slowed his pace. His knuckles were healing quickly, she noted, and the bruise on his chin was yellowing at the edges. Like the bruise on his side had been, _almost healed; an old wound._ The sharp pang of worry that went through her startled her. _Worried_. She frowned at herself, ducking her head to stare at the suds and the mug in the sink. _She wasn’t worried about Billy Hargrove._

But the memory of her rudeness that morning made her look up again, clearing her throat. He raised his sky-blue gaze to hers, and she smiled slightly, ruefully. “Sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have been rude. Thank you for returning my book.” _Though I don’t know why you held onto it for so long…_ she thought at him.

He shrugged, one of his manufactured, pretty smirks making his face light up. “Don’t worry about it, princess, I don’t even remember what you said.” _Because I don’t care about you, because you’re forgettable_ , his easy, false forgiveness and sudden casual posturing said. _Because I’m far too cool to be bothered with lesser people, and what they say._

She hunched over the bowl in her hands slightly, involuntarily. “Right.” She said softly. _Right_. She wasn’t her sister. She wasn’t enough to matter. She wondered idly if her sister was here, if they’d already be making their way upstairs… She thought suddenly and longingly of her bed. Jennifer was tired. Too tired to spend any more energy worrying about the boy in front of her did or said or thought. “Just… put your dish in the sink. I’m going to bed.” She told him, watching the way his smirk faded slightly. _Good_.

She made her way upstairs, stopping in her room to pick up her pyjamas, and heading for the bathroom. When she ducked under the steaming spray, she sent out a silent prayer, hoping that he’d pull another disappearing act whilst she was in the shower. He was too confusing, too irritating and changeable. She groaned at the thought of him, sitting pretty like some kind of prince in her kitchen. _Like he owned the place_. She shook her head, scrubbing hard at her face.  _Billy, Billy, go away - please don't come back another day._

 

* * *

 

Of course, he wasn’t.

He’d made his way into her bedroom, and had made himself comfortable on her bed. He looked up briefly when she walked in, and gave her an up and down, before settling back with a snort. “Nice jammies.” He said mockingly. She flushed, running a hand over her flannel Garfield-print shirt.

“Well they’re definitely more comfortable than those jeans. What do you do – paint them on?” she asked him, trying to inject the same amount of sarcasm into her tone as he had. She failed.

He sat up again, propping himself up on his elbows, and gave her a long, hot look. “You like what you see?” he asked her sultrily. She blanched, flapping her hands at him in disgust.

“Ew! No – I just – you – I mean, you – _ugh!_ ” she gave up on speech, throwing up her hands, and collapsing onto the ground, cheeks flaming, skin feeling a little hot. She reached feebly for her sketchbook, lying where she’d left it, next to her speaker – and flipped it open, pointedly ignoring him. He didn’t seem bothered, settling back down, and pulling her favourite blanket over himself. She looked up at the action, scowling. He met her eyes suddenly, grinning impishly at her, practically daring her to say something. She gritted her teeth and lowered her eyes back down to her page. God forbid she _ever_ did something Billy Hargrove wanted.

It was easy – disarmingly so – to fall back into the dreamy sort of quiet they had done in her garden; the familiar sounds of her pencil scratching against her paper and his even breaths the only noise in the room. She finished off her last sketch – a simple oak tree with roots and branches that sprawled across the whole double page – and flipped to a new page. It took her brain a second to catch up with her hands, the lines on her paper taking an embarrassing shape; the sprawled limbs of the near stranger in her bed. But she couldn’t stop now that she’d started; and so, the figure of Billy took life. His face was easy to do; he was so damn symmetrical that she could practically map out his features using Da Vinci’s golden ratio of beauty. She lingered on his lips, trying to make his cupid’s bow just right.

She would have thought he was dead asleep – but when the front door slammed below them, and she startled, dropping her pencil with a faint clatter – he shot up, eyes roving the room. Jennifer felt a leap of sudden panic. “Shit!” she swore, standing up. She looked at him wild-eyed. “You have to leave! If my parents catch you here, they’ll _freak_!” He got up leisurely as she hurried towards her door, opening it a crack to peer out. Footsteps on the stairs, and the top of her father’s head appearing over the balustrade made her close it hastily – slamming her body against it. Billy was standing in the centre of her room looking _unphased._ In fact, he looked more than a little amused. “ _What do I do_?” she whispered to herself.

Billy rolled his eyes. “Relax, princess – getting caught with me would do you a favour.”

Perhaps he didn’t mean it to sound cruel, but Jennifer felt hurt bloom across her face anyway. She turned away from him to hide her expression. “I don’t want to ‘get caught’ with _anyone_.” She said, pressing her ear against the door. “And somehow I doubt you’d want people to know you’ve stooped _so low_.” She threw back at him, turning to look at him. His face was unreadable, but he held her gaze. They stared at each other as her father’s footsteps sounded on the landing, but Jennifer was unwilling to look away, to back down.

Finally, Billy turned. “How high up are we?” he asked curtly, striding to her window. Jennifer’s eyes widened.

“We’re two stories up. Wait – you’re not going to jump, are you?!” she hissed at him disbelievingly. He pulled up her window in one swift movement, and shot her a withering look.

“Of course not, idiot.” He shot at her. “I’m gonna climb down the tree. Just wanted to know if I’d break my legs if I fell.” She coloured, looking to the tree just outside her window.

“Oh.” She pressed her lips together for a moment, gathering her dignity. “Right. Well.” She cleared her throat a little pointedly, as a gust of wind blew back her hair and made her shiver.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” He rolled his eyes, and manoeuvred his way out of her window, with no small amount of grace. It took a second to look away from the way his biceps flexed as he gripped the branches, berating herself for her ogling. Then, a thought occurred to her.

“Wait!” She whisper-yelled to him, and to her surprise, he halted, turning to glare at her.

“Now what?”

She didn’t spare a second to answer him, ducking back into her room to hurry to her closet – throwing it open and picking out her oversized bomber jacket. It was dark green and blue, with a deep indigo velvet lining; and probably the most fashionable thing she owned. But it was large enough to fit him. She reappeared at the window, finding him waiting with his customary scowl. “Here!”

She threw the wadded-up jacket to him, only lingering long enough to watch him catch it with an expression of surprise, before she slammed her window shut as a knock sounded on her bedroom door. Fighting a guilty flush, she ran her fingers through her hair, casting a quick look at herself in her mirror. _Nope_. She was still pink and wild-haired. She groaned under her breath, and crossed to her door as another knock sounded. “Yeah! Coming!” she called, rolling her eyes at her own high-pitched voice. She pulled open her door, exposing her frowning father. “Hey, dad…” she said casually, trying to mimic Billy’s lean against her doorframe.

His frown deepened. “Are you alright?” he asked her.

She nodded, a little frantically. “Yeah! Yeah – um, just… tired. Hah. Gonna have a sleep-in tomorrow.”

“Riiight.” Her father gave her a long, soul-searching look, before he cast a gaze over her shoulder. She waited, a little impatiently, but then he sighed. “Sleep well, honey. Your mom says goodnight.”

“Thanks. Um. You too.” She said awkwardly, waiting until he trundled down the corridor before she closed her door again. She crossed the room to her bed, throwing herself down miserably.

_Billy freakin’ Hargrove._

He was going to be the death of her.


	5. Blooming/Three Shades of Bruises

There was something odd about the way his stomach tightened when he brushed his fingers over the soft lining of her jacket. It wasn’t the way that he felt about chicks normally, though Tina’s sister was hardly on his radar. Tina was way into him, and though she – like everyother girl in the backwater town – wasn’t anything special, especially compared to California girls, she was at least hotter than Jennifer. She was far too… cute. She wasn’t his type, like, at all.

_Jenny._

He smirked to himself, picturing the obvious blush on her cheeks. It was always amusing to him; the way women crumbled over him, the way he could make or break their day with a look.

He pulled the jacket on, and edged up the volume of his record just a little higher. He looked good in green and blue – it made his hair blonder, his eyes brighter. There was a bang on his wall, and Max’s angry little voice came shrilly through. His smile tightened a little, and in the mirror, he thought he looked a little savage. _Fuck her._ The familiar swell of white hot anger made him grin even harder, forcing the smile to stay put. He turned, checking out the way he looked from behind in the jacket. _Not bad._

 

* * *

 

He didn’t waste anytime after he heard the front door close after his father and Susan. He gathered his things, stripping down to his singlet, and made himself at home in the living room. He barely came out here, but he always preferred to work out there, just because the television was louder than his stereo, and the sun through the windows was nice.

He hadn’t really done much sunbaking since he’d been uprooted. Not only was there a distinct _lack_ of sunlight in the shithole someone had called a town – but he wasn’t a fan of the painful nostalgia he had to bury every time he did.

California hadn’t been good since his mom had left – but it at least reminded him of her. The sun, the sand, the surf, the flowers she wore, the way she smiled-

Billy took a furious drag of his cigarette, just to distract himself with the sudden harsh heat in his throat. It stopped the sudden twist in his gut, and he lifted his barbell again – focussing on the _feel_ of it all, rather than anything… distracting. The way his muscles bunched and gathered, the faint beading of sweat on the back of his neck, atop his lip, the scorched taste of tobacco in his mouth, the pulse of his music in his ears. It was a catharsis. The repetition of it. The in and out of breath, the flow of blood.

The doorbell ringing was a rude interruption. He ignored it, “Twenty-one.” He said aloud, trying to fall back into the focus of his reps. It rang again. “Twenty-two.” There it was again; that simmering irritation flaring. And then again and again. He swore, setting down his barbell furiously. “Max – are you getting that, or what?” he bellowed.

“ _Okay!”_

He only just heard her screech over his music, and as the doorbell rang _again_ – he set down his cigarette. “Max, I swear _to god-!”_ Luckily for her, she was already storming out of her room, avoiding his gaze with her usual eyeroll. He picked up his equipment again, and closed his eyes.

He’d have to start again if he wanted to get back into the mind-numbing state. “One.” He whispered. But the open close of the door, and the _lack_ of Max hurrying back past him was distracting. _What exactly was she doing?_ He sat up slowly, grabbing the closest can to him – the horseshit his father liked – and made his way over to the door. Suspicious.

Her sudden reappearance, and subsequent nervousness made him frown, and he stuck an arm out – stopping her from leaving. “Who the hell were you talking to?”

“Mormons.” She said, after a moment that was a little too long. He huffed out a cloud of smoke, incredulous.

“Mormons?”

She nodded. “Talkative ones.” She shoved past him, and he let her go – moving instead to cast open the door. He didn’t trust her, and as the cool outside air hit his face, he squinted up and down the street. No fucking Mormons – but no one else, either.

_Little shit._

He returned to his exercise but couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that something was wrong – he used to get it, back in the beginning, when his father’s eyes would be a little glassy, his movements a little brusquer. Now when he saw _those_ signs, he just felt dread, swallowing him whole.

“ _Great_.” He growled aloud, setting down the weights with a grimace. There was no way he would be able to focus now, find that mindless peace.

Unbidden, he thought about the faint scratch of pencil on paper, the soft touch of grass beneath him and a warmth, an ease.

The strangeness of it – echoic of the tightness brought about by the jacket – made him still. _What was it about Jennifer McClaine that made him so… not right?_

There was no real explanation as to why he had showed up at her house, not just once, but twice. Sure – he could say it was because she didn’t ask questions, and she had a decent first aid kit. He could say that it was a way to say thank you, after that disaster of a night. He didn’t remember much; he’d been off his face before midnight, and after Henderson and Harrington had left, there hadn’t been much to do – his sources of entertainment had sauntered off, and he was left alone with people he couldn’t give two shits about, and yet somehow expected him to be the life of the party. He’d set himself up for that though; there was no way he was going to spend _any_ amount of time in a room full of people sober. School itself was hard enough.

 

* * *

 

He’d set up a date with Tina for that night; he’d even offered to pick her up. A small part of him wanted Jennifer to see him with her sister, wanted to see the little face she pulled; the _lengths_ she went to try and stop him from knowing what she was thinking was oftentimes hilarious. She had a terrible poker face. Why that small part of him also wanted to pick up _Jenny_ instead, he didn’t know.

Probably because he wouldn’t have to spend the night pretending to listen; Jennifer didn’t really talk much.

He shuddered, just imagining the babble he would have to endure with Tina. _Mindless shit – but he’d only have to smile and nod until he got into her pants._ He turned up his radio another touch, and sauntered over to his mirror. He looked good – fuck, if he knew anything, it was that he looked _good_. He breathed deep, filling his lungs with smoke, his smile with confidence.

The knock on his door, and his step-mother’s call made his smile drop. “ _Billy?”_

He grimaced. “Yeah, I’m a little bit busy in here, Susan.”

“ _OPEN THE DOOR. RIGHT NOW.”_ His father’s voice was as it always was; thunderous, demanding, and it set off the alarm bells, his whole body tensing reactively. He went automatically, trying to keep his cool as the faces of his father and Susan were revealed. Neil looked… livid. Susan, as was her M.O., looked vaguely worried and guilty. She always looked guilty; but Billy didn’t pity her internal turmoil, not when she was so _fucking_ _passive_ about it all.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, more than a little warily.

“Why don’t you tell us?”

Billy ground his teeth. “Because I don’t know.” If he didn’t leave soon, he’d more than just fashionably late. It was better to have them waiting for him hopefully, not angry because he’d left them hanging too long.

“We can’t find Maxine.” Susan said – and if a part of Billy had a sudden surge of _want_ ; because when was the last time anyone had worried over him like that – he tramped it down.

His father was less worried than he was angry. Neil liked _order_ and _control;_ and finding his stepdaughter missing threw a wrench in his tightly run household. “And her window’s open.” He growled out. “Where is she?”

Billy almost, _almost_ felt a stab of fear for the girl he had to call his sister; but it was quickly swallowed by irritation. _Again,_ that little shit was ruining his life. _Again,_ she was making his world revolve around her flights of fancy. _Again,_ she was responsible for his father’s anger, and the consequences of it. “I don’t know.” He said again, turning to cast a look at his alarm clock. _Yeah, he would have to actually apologize for his lateness at this rate._

“You don’t know?” His father scoffed at him, and Billy felt his heart skip a beat.

He floundered, “Look, I’m sure she just, I don’t know, went to the arcade or something. I’m sure she’s fine.” He turned back into his room, eyes falling on her jacket. _No he couldn’t wear that, not in front of his father – it’d just lead to questions._ He made for his wardrobe, ignoring the prickling on the back of his neck as his father followed him.

“You were… _supposed to watch her._ ” his father’s voice was dangerous.

“I know, dad, I was – it’s just, you guys were three hours late,” he pulled on his worn leather jacket, failing to tamper down the faint passive aggression in his tone. “And, well, I have a date.” He sighed, turning back around and forcing some humility onto his face. “I’m sorry, okay?” His father’s face twitched, and his stomach dropped.

“So that’s why you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror like some faggot instead of watching your sister.” Neil’s voice was quiet, and Billy’s temper flared; he was _not some fuckin’ faggot-_

 _“I_ have been looking after her _all_ week, Dad! Okay?” he snapped, “If she wants to run off, then that’s her problem, alright?” In the doorway, Susan swallowed nervously, hand fluttering anxiously around her throat, playing with her necklace. _That guilt was back there again_. It just made him more angry – even though he knew he should _shut the fuck up… “_ She’s thirteen years old – she shouldn’t need a full-time babysitter.” He turned, shutting off his radio with a click. “And she’s _not my sister!”_

The sudden vicious movement of his father still caught him off guard, despite the regularity of it. He huffed out a pained breath as his back collided with the hard racks of his closet. He clenched his jaw, holding back the half-hurt, half-frightened noise that threatened to escape him as his father closed the distance between them, eyes dark with fury.

“What did we talk about?” that same soft, predatory tone – the calm before the storm. Billy didn’t have time to speak before his father’s hand came up to hit him around the face with enough force that he had to blink away stars; neck snapping painfully around. His father grabbed his jaw hard, forcing him to look back into his eyes. “What, did, we… talk about?”

Billy swallowed. “Respect and responsibility.” He put everything into keeping his voice steady.

“That is right.” Neil said. His eyes were unblinking and flat, like a shark’s stare. “Now, apologize to Susan.”

Billy didn’t look at her, didn’t want to look at her _sad stupid face_ – “I’m sorry, Susan.” He said as loud as he could; still coming out soft.

“It’s okay, Neil, really-” she tried – _she couldn’t even say his name, of course she would appeal to his father, roll over, show her fucking belly._

“No – it’s not okay – nothing about his behaviour is _okay_!” Neil’s sudden volume made him flinch, and he caught his breath, hoping his father hadn’t seen it. “But he’s going to make up for it.” Neil said lowly, and slowly, the hands pinning him against the closet retracted. Billy kept his eyes on his face, unable to move. “He’s gonna call whatever whore he’s seeing tonight, and cancel their date.” The sudden calm in his father’s voice didn’t convince Billy – nor Susan, by the look on her meek little face. “And then, he’s going to go find his sister.” He took a breath, and turned again. Billy felt himself tense automatically. “Like the good, kind, respecting brother that he is. Isn’t that right, Billy?” Billy took a breath. “ISN’T THAT RIGHT?” the sudden force of the yell made him tremble just a little, but it was enough for Neil’s eyes to gleam in satisfaction.

“Yes, sir.” He managed quietly, feeling unbidden and humiliating tears burn at his eyes. _Just hold them back, don’t let him see, don’t let him see, don’t let him see, don’t-_

Neil sighed, and took another threatening step closer. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

Billy clenched his fists, leaning back into the cupboard of his own accord, _pressing_ hard on the bruises that were surely forming to try and gain some sort of distracting clarity. “Yes, sir.” He repeated himself, just making it above speaking level.

“Find. Max.”

And then he was gone, turning and leaving the room; and Billy thought that Susan may have lingered, but then he was alone, focussing on steadying his breathing and stopping the fear chilling him to the core. He closed his eyes, feeling a tear slip humiliatingly down his cheek. He clenched his jaw – and willed himself to be angry again – because anger was better than feeling _so fucking scared._

He ran his hands through his hair, and tugged – slamming his fist around suddenly, just to hear a shatter as he broke something.

_Breaking, broken, bruised and ready to scream._


	6. Silent, In The Trees

Jennifer and her sister weren’t close.

It was a fact, just like it was a fact that they were twins, or that the sky was blue. They didn’t understand each other – Jennifer couldn’t figure out Tina’s obsession with popularity, and Tina couldn’t wrap her head around Jennifer’s hobbies. Sometimes, it was hard to say if they even liked each other.

But – they were still sisters.

They were still sisters, and when Jennifer opened the bathroom door to find Tina sobbing into the sink like her heart would break – panic and worry flared in her so strongly, that she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her sister instinctively. “Tina – what’s wrong?” she asked, stroking her sister’s styled hair out of her face. Tina – usually so perfect – looked like an extra from a B-grade horror flick; lipstick smudged and mascara running down her cheeks.

She sniffed loudly, and clutched at Jennifer. “I- I…”

“Are you hurt?” Jennifer shook her a little, half to bring her to her senses, half to check for pain.

Tina wailed suddenly; “ONLY MY HEART!” she collapsed backwards, and Jennifer sagged awkwardly under her weight. “I was just _dumped_!” Tina cried.

Jennifer pressed her lips together, straining to keep her face still. “O-oh… um, I didn’t think you were… dating anyone.” She said softly.

Tina ran a hand through her teased up hair dramatically, and took a shuddering breath. “I may as well have been!” she sobbed again. “Billy Hargrove was taking me out tonight – and then he was a bit late, but I expected that, b-bu-but then he _called_ me, and told me _he never wanted to see me!!”_ Tina dissolved into tears again, blubbering senselessly into Jennifer’s shoulder.

Jennifer pursed her lips. _Billy freaking Hargrove._ “Surely you’re not _actually_ upset, are you?” she asked, hoping her sister would listen to her. “I mean… he’s not _that_ great is he? Isn’t he just, like…” she struggled to think of a term to fit with her sister’s slang. “A dumb jock?” she tried.

Tina sniffled. “I guess… but he’s _so_ hot, Jennifer – you just don’t get it – everyone thought he was gonna ask out Nicole, which would make her, like, ten times cooler than me, and Carol told me _no way would Billy ever like me_ ,” Jennifer flinched at her shrill impersonation of Carol, “but then he asked me out. _He_ actually asked _me_ …” Tina sounded sadder than Jennifer had ever heard her. “And now that he’s ditched me, I’m a total loser!” she turned to look at Jennifer, “No offence.” Jennifer narrowed her eyes. Tina sighed. “Carol’s right, I should just stick to the benched boys and the IT nerds.” Jennifer had no idea who or what the benched boys were, and wasn’t planning on finding out – but Tina’s utterly defeated self-deprecation made her frown.

“Hey – don’t say that.” She nudged her twin, waggling her eyebrows. “Carol’s just jealous Billy didn’t hit on her.” Tina smiled slightly. “C’mon – just… I don’t know, say you had to cut the date short or something… say he was too keen. It’ll be fine, Tina, you’re way cooler than any of those idiots anyway.”

Tina gave her a wet look. “Do you really think so, Jenny?”

Jennifer smiled. “I know so.” _She would make sure of it._

She tucked her sister into bed before she traipsed quietly downstairs, and picked up her phone. It took a while before she got the right number – and for a moment, she thought it would just ring out again – but just before it rang out, the line connected.

“ _This is Neil Hargrove, can I ask who the hell is calling at this hour?”_

Jennifer’s eyes widened at the man’s furious tone. “Oh! I’m so sorry sir, my name is Jennifer McClaine, and I was just wondering if Billy was at home?” she trilled politely.

There was a pause. “ _Are you the wh- ahem, the girl he was supposed to take out tonight_?” Jennifer frowned at his near-slip.

“Uh, no – I’m his, um, study buddy?” she tried, getting a grunt in response. “I was just wondering if I could talk to him about the upcoming art project?”

“ _Art? Billy doesn’t do art.”_

Jennifer smacked herself in the forehead. “Oh – did I say art? Ha-ha… um, I meant… history! Yeah, history project, it’s a big one.” She rambled awkwardly, rolling her eyes at herself.

A long silence. _“Billy isn’t home right now. He’s out looking for his sister. I’ll let him know you called.”_   Jennifer just knew he wasn’t actually going to.

She forced artificial brightness into her tone. “Oh, thank you so much – sorry about the late call. Goodnight, Mr. Hargrove!” she slammed the phone back into the receiver.

Dammit. Where could he be?

Well – to find out where he’d be, first she’d have to find his sister. _Right_ …

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take her long to realise she had zero idea where she could find Billy’s sister, or Billy himself. She pulled over on the empty main road, and sighed. She also had no idea what on earth she was going to say to him if she found Billy – she didn’t exactly have anything to threaten him with – so she could appeal to his… good nature?

She laughed quietly.

_Yeah, right._

Billy Hargrove’s good nature? Hah. She had more chance of appealing to a unicorn. With a decisive flick, she switched on her indicator again, despite the lack of traffic – and pulled back out onto the road. All she could do was pray that Billy didn’t say anything about the date – or lack thereof – at school, and hopefully corner him then. She couldn’t do anything else at this point. It was with a faint sense of disappointment that Jennifer decided to take the scenic route back home; driving past and through the woods always eased her mind, got her thinking about things other than what was troubling her. instead, she could picture the trees as images, store the colours and shapes for her sketchbook, spend hours illustrating the nature that so fascinated her.

It was hard to say what exactly drew her to turn down a route she had never gone. It was hard to say what made her drive a little slower, what made her roll down her window and stare at the moon. Fate, maybe – or a higher power. Perhaps, just coincidence.

It only took a second of distraction; but all too suddenly, she turned her attention back to the road – and screamed, slamming on the breaks, and jerking the steering wheel to avoid the figure that had appeared in the centre of the road.

There was a moment of absolute panic and disconnect as she scrambled to regain control of her car as she spun crazily off the road. With a loud screech and a plume of smoke, her car jerked to a stop – inches from a thick tree trunk, angled down at the forest floor. She panted, clutching at her steering wheel and trying to process the last couple of seconds. When her brain caught up – dread stabbed at her gut, and she threw herself out of the car, stumbling to her feet and back up onto the road. To her horror, the figure was sprawled across the asphalt, face down and unmoving.

“Oh shit – oh no… please, _please_ don’t be dead…” she muttered, hurrying towards them and dropping to her knees beside them. The snarl of blonde curls was oddly familiar… as was the dangling earring caught in it, reflecting the moonlight slightly. Her jaw dropped. “ _Billy?”_ she rolled him over, revealing his slack face. “Holy…” she bent over him, holding her ear to his mouth, praying he was breathing.

She could feel it, faintly, and she sat back with a sigh of relief. She looked him over, taking in his bare arms and chest, the lack of physical injuries – but for his bloodied nose and lips, and a series of bruises blooming on his left cheek, and his torn up knuckles. But nothing that could have accounted for his sudden unconsciousness. “Billy.” She said. No response. “Billy!” she tapped his unbruised cheek lightly. Still nothing. She uttered a silent apology – then slapped him with some force. “BILLY!”

“Whhh-uuuhhh?” his garbled response made her sit back in relief, watching as he blinked his eyes open blearily. His pupils were blown, and it seemed to take him no small amount of effort to focus on her. “Jenny.” He said succinctly and faintly.

“What the hell happened?” Jennifer asked him. He was shivering, and she automatically pulled off her coat, laying it over him like a blanket. He kept staring at her glassily.

“Drug…” he managed after a moment.

She frowned. “So, you’re telling me, you blew off my sister to get… high?” she couldn’t help the irritation creeping into her voice. But he shook his head – and moved his hand weakly, gesturing towards his neck. She shoved his hair out of the way impatiently, scanning the expanse of tan skin to see a small pinprick, raised and angry red beneath his jaw. “ _Drugged?_ ” He made a gurgling noise, eyelids fluttering again. “Who- my god, Billy – who did this? Did they hit you?” it was a lost cause, he was clearly too woozy to understand her, and as another gust of chilled wind made her shiver, she stood. If she was cold, who knew how badly he was freezing. She bit her lip – _who had done this? Who had just left him alone in the night?_

She bent over him again, and tugged him into a sitting position, and readjusting her coat around his shoulders. After a moment’s hesitation, she ghosted her fingers down his mostly bare chest, finding the buttons of his shirt and doing them up. His skin was ice-cold. “I need you to stay awake, okay?” she told him gently, hoping that he could hear her, his eyes half-closed and mouth slack. “Okay.” She told herself, “Go get the car, get the heating going, and then…” she looked at her half-conscious charge. “Hope he doesn’t die.”

It didn’t escape her notice how similar the situation was to the night they’d… well, met was the wrong word – perhaps, encountered each other, was more accurate.

She slowly backed the car back onto the road, wincing at the faint column of smoke from under the dash. _Just hold out until home, baby._ She patted the dash affectionately, and slid back out of the car. She managed to get him upright, but unlike when he was drunk, he seemed to have less range of motion in his legs – and so she dragged him, his boot heels scraping on the concrete. “Why.” She huffed, “Are. You. So. _Heavy?!”_ she tugged him with one final heave, collapsing half onto the passenger’s seat, pinned under his body weight. She panted for a second, the vague hilarity of the situation creeping up on her until she began to laugh.

That spurred a reaction, and he wiggled slightly, and grunted. “ _Wha-?”_

She laughed harder. “If anyone came by right now,” she paused to catch her breath, “It would look like I’m trying to hide a body…” she pressed her lips together, trying to stop laughing. In the silence, she could hear the far off sounds of the night, crickets chirping, the rustling of trees, Billy’s faint breath. She sighed. “You know, you really owe me.” She said into the silence. As expected, there was no response.

She managed to get him into the car, angling all the heating vents towards him and spreading her coat over him, before buckling him in. He just seemed to be asleep now, eyes fully closed and breath even and deep. She got into the car, and paused, thinking. She didn’t know where he lived, and honestly, wasn’t really sure if she wanted to show up to his house when he was like this – she didn’t want to get him in trouble. It just left the risk of bringing him to her house. She groaned, thumping her head back on the headrest. The clock on her dash read 1:00am. She couldn’t just leave him. She smiled sardonically at herself. _She must have a death wish of some kind._

Jennifer turned the car towards her house anyway, speeding through the quiet town with her music on low, her heater on high, and a sleeping boy in her passenger seat.


	7. Muse/Bloody Fists

Jennifer shut off her headlights as she pulled up to her house, taking in the dark face of her house. No one seemed to be awake; the only light on was from her own room, spilling gold onto the leaves of the tree beside her window.

She turned to her passenger. He was still sleeping but was clutching at her jacket with a face of slight discomfort – as if he was still cold. She reached over and touched his shoulder, and he opened his eyes slowly. “How are you feeling?” she asked him. Billy blinked, looking around himself for a moment, clearly confused. “Billy?”

“I-” he cleared his throat, voice hoarse. “I don’t…know.” He finished haltingly. Her heart went out to him.

“That’s okay, we’ll get you inside and better warmed up, okay? Just- be as quiet as you can.” Jennifer reached over to unbuckle his seatbelt for him, the spacey look in his eyes not filling her with much confidence. “Can you, uh, stand?” she asked. He shrugged, and she sighed. “Okay then.”

She got out of the car, fishing out her keys and unlocking the door before returning to collect Billy, who had managed to get half-way out of the car. She ducked around him, situating herself under his arm to prop him up. He made an impatient noise. “I can walk.” He snapped. She raised her eyebrows, and stepped back. He took a step, stumbling and catching the car-door for support. “Shut up.” He grumbled.

Jennifer smiled. “I didn’t say anything.” He made a low noise, but let her help him into the house and up into the bathroom, turning the water up high. She waited just outside the door, praying he wouldn’t fall, and that her parents or sister wouldn't get up to see why the shower was running.

He didn’t take long, thankfully, and before long, there was a knock on the bathroom door – and she opened it, revealing Billy with a towel around his waist, and another twisted into a turban on his head. She ducked her head, trying to hide her grin from him. “I know you’re laughing at me.” He said imperiously, though without his usual venom that he seemed to inject into everything he said. She guessed he was probably still woozy. “Again.” he added.

Jennifer straightened, schooling her features into a beatific smile, shoving past him to collect the first-aid kit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said serenely, and passed him a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt covered in paint stains. He took them between the ends of his fingers, as if they were dirty rags, wrinkling his nose. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and turned to leave. “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

His eyes glittered almost mischievously, and before she knew it, she was looking at his familiar, painted on smirk, eyes smouldering. “Can’t wait, princess…” he purred at her.

She really did roll her eyes this time, trying to ignore the insolent and uncalled for blush on her cheeks. _Billy freakin’ Hargove…_ “Idiot.” She muttered, and closed the bathroom door on his annoying face.

She didn’t, in fact, go straight to her bedroom, instead wandering down into the kitchen to reheat a bowl of the pasta they had eaten for dinner. For a moment, she contemplated bringing him a bowl of casserole instead. _Would serve him right._ Lucky for him, Jennifer wasn’t particularly vindictive – even if he _had_ made her sister cry. Jennifer tiptoed back up the stairs, biting down hard on her tongue; the bowl burning into her palms hot enough to make her eyes well up. If she could yell, she would. She nudged open her bedroom door, and closed it behind herself with her foot, waiting until she heard the soft click to turn to her guest.

To no one’s – especially not her – surprise, he had already bundled himself up in her blankets; and was flipping through _her sketchbook_. Jennifer panicked, dropping the bowl noisily onto her desk and darting for him. “Put that down!” she hissed, jumping at him in her alarm. She only got a second to see his sudden surprised widening of his eyes as she snatched for the book when a knock sounded on her door.

“ _Jennifer?”_

“Shit.” Jennifer muttered, and as Billy opened his mouth to protest, she shoved his head under the duvet, and sat up, pulling the covers up under her arms. “Uh – yeah?” she replied. Her door opened, and Tina’s sleepy face appeared, frowning.

“Why are you up so late?” she asked suspiciously.

Jennifer grinned. “I was hungry.” She nodded at the steaming bowl of pasta on her desk. “And I’m drawing.” She held up her sketchbook.

“Oh.” Tina said. “I thought I heard the shower run.”

Jennifer scrambled to change the subject. “Yeah, you sure did. How- uh, how’re you feeling?” she asked, praying her sister wouldn’t notice her hair was dry, or that she wasn’t even in her pyjamas.

Tina pouted, “Still sad – but you’re right, he’s just a dumb jock anyway.” Jennifer’s smile grew fixed as she felt a flick against her leg. She kicked out with a yawn, hitting what she hoped was Billy’s stomach. “You… okay? You’re acting weird… weirder than normal.” Tina raised a perfectly plucked brow.

Jennifer nodded a little frantically, “I’m fine! Perfectly fine – just, oh-” she staged another huge yawn. “So, so tired...” she stretched and extended her yawn even further, hoping her sister would _take the goddamned hint…_

“Huh. Well. Night, I guess.” Tina said, and left, just as abruptly as she’d come. Jennifer and Billy waited until they heard the faint sound of Tina’s bedroom door shut again before they moved.

Jennifer groaned. “What is it with my family and privacy?” a tanned hand shot out from under the covers, ripping them back to reveal Billy’s smirking face.

“Well can you blame them, princess? You sure do a lot of lyin’ for such a goody-two-shoes.” Billy said lowly, somehow managing to make the statement seem like a double entendre. Perhaps it was the late hour, or the fact that she had just dragged his ass around the whole town; but Jennifer felt her anger get the best of her.

“Yeah – funny how that only seems to happen around _you_ , Hargrove.” She snapped venomously. His eyebrow raised a fraction, but his fixed smirk stayed in place. “And get out from under there, you’re getting blood on my sheets.” She growled, and watched as his hand came up to touch at his split lip, which was, again, bleeding. She rolled her eyes, and rolled out of her bed – collecting the pasta and the first-aid kit. He watched her silently, doing as she’d asked and sitting pretty atop her quilt. She shoved the bowl at him, and angrily unzipped the first-aid kit, pretending she couldn’t see his growing amusement at her actions. She grabbed his free hand, and bent over it as he slurped obnoxiously at the noodles.

The only sign the disinfectant hurt him, was the faint twitch of his fingers. Jennifer gentled her grip anyway. He’d been through enough tonight – even if he was an asshole. “You gonna tell me what happened?” she asked quietly, as he obediently gave her his other hand. “I’m not liking this running theme of patching you up in silence.”

Billy snorted. “Look if I understood, I’d tell you.” She looked up then, and fixed him with an unimpressed look. For a moment, as she’d expected, he held her gaze, defiant – blue to hazel – but then he dropped his gaze, shrugging. “I was trying to find my sister, bring her home – and I found her in a house with the boy I told her not to talk to, an assortment of losers, and Steve fuckin’ Harrington. I-” he looked uncomfortable for a moment. “I, um, got up in the boy’s face. Scared him, y’know – but Max doesn’t understand; if Nei- _Dad_ found out she was seeing a _black kid-_ ”

“What’s wrong with that?” Jennifer asked him sharply. He stared at her, eyes looking open, vulnerable, confused; like an indoctrinated child’s would. “What’s wrong with that, Billy?” she asked him again, a little gentler.

Billy blinked. “Well – it, I mean, it isn’t _right_. My dad always said; you don’t mix white and colour. You just don’t.” Jennifer hummed. _It figured_. Brought up by a racist, you could be a racist. And it didn’t exactly seem like he had anyone to tell him otherwise.

“What would happen if you did?” she asked him.

He frowned, looking genuinely concentrated. She could practically see the gears turning in his head. “Well, you – people’d look at you funny.” He said finally.

She raised an eyebrow. “People would look at you funny?” she repeated slowly, scathingly. He looked a little defeated. “That’s backwards thinking, Billy. I want you to know that.” She said simply. He was silent. She didn’t want to push it. He clearly wasn’t sure what to do; had clearly never had anyone lay it out like that before. It made her sad. “Anyway. You, uh, scared him.”

Billy nodded mechanically. “Yeah. And then Steve and I fought. Nearly knocked his head off, I was so-” Again, there was a pause.

“You were so…?” she prompted.

He shook his head, face blanking like he was rebooting. “Next thing I know, I got a needle in my neck, Max shouting at me, and then it all goes black. Just barely remember stumblin’ outta there, down the road. She took my fucking car…” he growled, almost to himself. Jennifer ran her finger over the back of his knuckles; trying to bring him back down to earth. It worked – almost alarmingly – his eyes snapping up to hers with a sudden intensity. She avoided his gaze, busying herself with the bandages. “Then, I just remember seeing your face, princess.” He said, smirking again, moment passed. Jennifer hummed, and dampened a cotton pad with disinfectant, dabbing at his lip methodically. He was still watching her, but after minutes of silence, his smirk faded, and another hint of uncertainty coloured his eyes. “Are you mad, or somethin’?” he asked, as she put away the dirty cloth. “About the, uh, black thing?”

Jennifer sat back, drawing her knees up to her chin to look at him. It was surprising – that he wasn’t belligerently defensive. _Was she mad?_ She had a lot of things to be mad about regarding Billy Hargrove; but this – this just made her pity him. He was almost like a child. It was like he’d gone all his life being told the sky was green, and he was only just stepping outside. It was almost as if he wanted to be reproached, disputed. Like he wanted to be wrong; wanted his _father_ to be wrong.

She smiled slightly. “I’m not… mad. I’m just, well, a little sad. That you think that way.” She said. His brow creased a little bit.

“I need a smoke.” He muttered, and got off the bed, moving with unexpected grace to her window, and cracking it open. The abrupt change in mood and conversation was patent Billy Hargrove behaviour. Honestly; she was surprised their exchange had lasted so long.

_Maybe he should get drugged more often._

Jennifer blanched at her cruel thought, guilt immediately settling in her stomach. _Asshole_. She scolded herself, and crawled back up to her spot against the bedframe. Despite his efforts, the faint smell of smoke was already building inside her room. To her surprise, she didn’t much mind it. She was probably used to it, subconsciously. Billy always smelled a little like smoke, and he’d been in her room more times over the past couple of weeks than her sister had ever been. She retrieved her sketchbook from where it had been cast aside, running her hands over the cover.

“Sorry.” Billy’s sudden apology made her look up in surprise. He had situated himself artfully on her windowsill, head back against the frame and looking at her down his nose and through his lashes. His cigarette burned bright in his mouth. “Private stuff, huh?” he nodded at her sketchbook.

Jennifer coloured, and instinctively cradled the book to herself. “Uh, yeah.” She mumbled. “I don’t – don’t really show anyone this stuff.”

Billy shrugged. “Don’t know why. You got some good shit in there.” There it was, that perfect look, that smouldering, devilish smirk. “I like your latest.”

Jennifer was torn between hiding in embarrassment, and throwing her lamp at him. Embarrassment won out, and she pressed her face to the book, trying to fight her ridiculous blush. “I just- I mean, I – I draw what I see, and you were right there – in _my_ bed, might I add – so I-” she babbled.

Billy laughed quietly, and ashed his cigarette. “I don’t mind, princess. I’ve been many things; but uh, I don’t ever recall being anyone’s _muse_ before.” She peeked over the top of the book to catch him wink at her, striking an absurdly contrived pose; reminiscent of Rodin’s Thinker, on her windowsill. She rolled her eyes at him.

“You’re ridiculous, Billy Hargrove.” He shrugged, and looked out the window, dropping his pose, but not his smile. Jennifer flipped open her sketchbook and picked up her pencil. “Don’t move.” She told him, missing his faintly surprised look, and the way his face softened for a moment. She drew him until she fell asleep, until he made himself comfortable on the floor, and switched off her light. They slept until the sun had risen, and then some.

Billy woke before her – as he had done before. He woke before her, and looked to her still open window, and at her bedroom door, and then at the world outside. And then pulled down the blinds, lay back down, and closed his eyes again. The world outside could wait. _Just a little longer._


	8. Sunflower Sundress: Part 1

Jennifer blinked awake slowly, eyes focussing a little sleepily on the pattern of small flowers she’d painted a few years ago. They were above her bed, on the sloping bit of roof that always made her room feel smaller. She’d grown into her room as she’d gotten older. It was her own piece of privacy and comfort. She always felt safest in her room, as if her four painted walls, thin door and the oak tree outside could shield her from anything.

There wasn’t any judgement in her room. No one to tease her, no one to make her feel small.

The sound of someone stirring beside her made her jump, sitting up in fright. Billy met her wide eyes with his eyebrow raised, and it took a moment for the events of the night before to return. She spoke without thinking. “Oh. I thought you would have left.”

He rolled his eyes, and sat up. “Sorry for the inconvenience, princess.” He said bitingly, but she could still hear the edge of hurt. He stood up, making for her door – and she panicked.

“No! Sorry – I was just… surprised.” She said, and he turned back around, predictable smirk back in place.

“You want me to stay?” he asked, with a mock surprise, pressing a hand to his heart like he was touched. It hadn’t occurred to her to _want_ him to stay; but something about the way he had phrased it, some tiny bit of longing in his eyes made her realise that _he_ wanted to. Jennifer wondered what exactly made him want to stay, with her, a veritable loser – and someone he barely knew.

Then – she decided that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t her business, and she certainly wasn’t going to kick him out now. And it wasn’t as if she had any real plans on a Sunday – especially any that involved other people, so there wasn’t anyone to let down. She sighed, and tossed the covers back, planting her bare feet on the floor, and fixing him with an amused look. She didn’t want him to think she had missed his implication. “Whatever you want, Billy.” She told him.

He scoffed. “You’re definitely the obsessed party here.” He said as she got up and moved towards her closet. “Why do you have so many books?” he asked her, and Jennifer looked around from rooting through her wardrobe to find him staring hard at her wall to wall bookshelf her dad had built around her desk.

“Why do you have so many earrings?” she enquired, watching him bring up a hand to his ear automatically, grinning into her t-shirts. He _did_ have an extensive selection of earrings, she’d seen him in studs and rings and dangling ones. “Cause I like them.” She responded after a small silence. “I’ll be back.” She told him, as he took a step closer to her shelf. Billy nodded vaguely, still staring with his lips parted.

She shook her head at him as she left her room, hurrying towards the bathroom to get into the shower. It wasn’t particularly early; but her family never rose before 11:00 on Sundays, which meant she had a few minutes to get Billy out before they got caught. What she was going to do with him after that, she hadn’t yet decided.

Jennifer pondered in the shower, scrubbing hard at her scalp as if it would jog her brain to think – but all that happened was suds stinging her eyes, and making her hiss. She got dressed quickly, pulling her sundress up over the yellow t-shirt she’d layered underneath, and stepping into her sneakers with wet feet, and wincing at the feeling. Her dress had big, fat sunflowers printed on it, and as she brushed her teeth, eyes fixed on the petals over her stomach, she had an idea.

 

* * *

 

Billy straightened and turned away from her bookshelf as Jennifer re-entered the bedroom, clutching a bulging bag and looking excited. He regarded her, eyes rolling over the ridiculous sundress and shirt combination, and to her bare ankles and dirty sneakers. If she dressed with even a _little_ care, she might be considered pretty; she had nice eyes, a hazel so light they looked almost yellow. She grinned widely and thrust the bad towards him, and he mentally flinched. _Uh never mind. Weirdo._

The thought was more affectionate than he expected, and he frowned at nothing, ignoring the faint internal awkwardness that flared for no reason. “You look like a hippie.” He told her disparagingly, watching as equal parts irritation and embarrassment rolled over her face momentarily, before her smile reappeared. _How did she do that?_ He marvelled at her nature. _Emotions came and went for her, just raindrops rolling down a window._ “What’s in the bag?” he asked, before his thoughts got _too_ introspective. He wasn’t going to start down his stupid path of ruminating on things that didn’t matter.

Jennifer thrust it at him, and he took it, opening it to see for himself. “Just some supplies. We’re going on a day trip.” She said, skipping over to her dresser, and rifling nosily through a small, plain box.

He examined the sandwiches in plastic wrap, and the loose apples rolling around with paintbrushes and tiny pots of paint in the bottom of the bag. “Um.” He said intelligently. “Where?”

“You’ll see.” She said mysteriously, infuriatingly – but before he could even snap at her to _just tell him, he wasn’t five-years-old_ , she had turned back to him, holding up something small and gold. “Wanna match?” she asked, with one of her small smiles that still somehow had the same energy as a big, beaming, grin. It was in her eyes, he thought, it was the way her eyes sparkled. _It was a good move, appealing._ He wondered if she knew that she did it. If he could smile like that, it’d be a lot easier to get on with teachers. He bet that most adults just ate her shit up. As she crossed to him, he studied her face, trying to work out how she did it. He was looking at her so hard, that it took him a moment to realise what she was holding out.

It was a pair of stud earrings, shaped in the symmetrical shape of the sunflowers currently decorating her dress, and the god-awful scrunchie on her wrist. Maybe _she_ was secretly five-years old. He wrinkled his nose, twitching away from the accessory. “No. Fuck no.” her smile faded, and her eyes widened. Was… was she… _pouting_ at him?

“C’mon, Billy…”

_Why’d she say his name so much?_

An irrational bolt of anger hit him, both at the annoying nature of her habit, and at the way it made his stomach warm.

“Fine.” He said roughly, and snatched one of the little flowers from her hand, and yanked out his current dangling earring. To his surprise, after she’d put the other sunflower in her left ear like he had, she threaded his earring through her other ear. He blinked at her as she grinned to herself, pulling up half of her wavy hair as she could into a little ponytail at the crown of her head, shaking out her bangs. They were a little too long, and as she brushed them out of her eyes impatiently, he had the oddest urge to tuck them back. Just too see if her hair was as soft as it looked, of course.

He turned away from her, because that anger was there again. She appeared at his side anyway, reaching for a folded piece of wood that seemed to be made of a nonsensical design of parts, and a large, thick papered book, that she could only just fit under her arm. Billy watched her struggle, raising a brow at her pathetic attempts to pick up the bag as well. He decided to put her out of her misery, and reached over her to grab it, slinging the canvas bag over his shoulder. “Thanks.” She panted quietly. “You should take a book.” She told him.

Billy scowled at her. “Uh, no. I’d rather be runover.” She shrugged.

“I’m not entertaining you if you get bored. And if you annoy me, I _will_ hurt you.” He refrained from pointing out that she was barely pushing 5”3, and had arms and legs like toothpicks. He reached reluctantly for the books, matching her hard stare with a foul glare of his own. He picked out one by random, shoving the rather thick novel into the bag with a loud, long-suffering sigh. Almost at once, her expression cleared, and she turned back to the door, opening it with more difficulty and disappearing down the stairs. He paused to push her desk chair in, and then slowly closed her bedroom door behind him.

 

* * *

 

She’d already stowed her easel in the back by the time he made it downstairs, and she waved him over impatiently. He, of course, took his sweet time sauntering out of her house, closing the front door behind himself, and annoyingly and unnecessarily double-checking the lock as she glared at him through the windshield. He was smirking his little shit-eating smirk, and when he _finally_ got into the car, she threw it suddenly into reverse, throwing him forwards.

“Hey!” he snarled, sending her a furious look.

She shrugged. “Should have put your seatbelt on quicker.” He gaped at her for a moment, before shaking his head, grumbling to himself as she pulled out onto the road. She nodded to the radio, “Pick some music.”

He tuned into a rock station straight away, turning up the volume, and then sitting back into the seat. “So where’re you takin’ me, anyways?” he asked, and it was the absence of any derision or aggression in his tone that made her smile a little. He sounded – dare she say it – _light_.

Jennifer kept her eyes on the road, at the cloudless blue sky above and in front of them. “Out of town.”

Billy let out a low, quiet breath beside her, sinking further into the seat, and closing his eyes. Something like a smile played on his lips, and she had to force her eyes back to the road. “Sounds perfect to me, princess.”

It was near visible; the way he actually _relaxed_ , the further they got from Hawkins – the faint grin as they drove past the welcome sign at the town’s limits more real than any she’d seen. The forest around them started to thin, and before they knew it, they were in amongst rolling green fields, and paddocks of hay, cows populating the country-side, patches of colour alongside the road; wild-flowers growing free. Jennifer could only hope she’d gotten the time of year right – hoping she’d taken the right turn on the fork a few miles back.

She didn’t need to worry, because about an hour later, they rounded a bend to be presented with a sea of yellow.

The sunflower field stretched well over half-an acre. She’d tried to walk all around the property once, the first time she’d found it, but it had taken too long. She’d gotten to a large pond to the west before she’d turned back. It was in full-bloom, some of the elder flowers even taller than she was; but the hill near the centre of the field was still in view, the three blue beech trees still green atop the grassy knoll. Perfect for painting. Perfect for sitting. Perfect for peace.

Billy looked between her and the field, before groaning. “Don’t tell me you wear waves to the beach.” He complained, and she ignored him, shutting off the car, and getting out to grab her easel and painting paper from the back. He followed her out, still complaining. “-toddlers don’t even match their environment… imagine if I went to school wearing books on a shirt.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as a book-shirt.” She told him, hoisting her easel over her shoulder.

He shuddered. “I hate to think about the sorry-suckers that would wear it if there was.” Surprisingly, he took the lead into the field, waiting for her as she manoeuvred her way over the fence. “How’d you find this place?” he asked, looking into the flowers.

Jennifer reached out to touch the bright petals of the sunflower closest to her. A wave of childlike giddiness swept through her. It was a scene from a movie, so much natural beauty, stretching infinitely towards the sky. Her fingers were just itching to paint them all. “I’m not sure really, I was just driving – and made a right turn, I suppose. They weren’t in bloom last time I was here, though.”

“In bloom.” He echoed her, and she watched him shape the words – eye level with a particularly tall flower. Something passed over his face then, something she hadn’t seen before. “I used to do that…” his voice was a little quieter. “I used to drive, or run, or swim – until I found something new; a new store, a new park, a new stretch of surf.” She was silent, aware that his speech wasn’t entirely for her. It was a little like he was just… remembering out loud. “One day, I just got up and walked. I must’ve walked for half the day.” He began to walk as he spoke, making his way through the field towards the hill. She followed him. “I walked through the sand-dunes so far that my feet started to blister on the sand. It got so hot in summer.” He chuckled to himself. “My mom was so-” there he stopped, physically as well – stilling as if someone had shouted stop.

She kept walking, until she was beside him. “Your mom was so…?” she prompted. He looked at her strangely, as if he was looking at something unfamiliar. She’d never once heard him talk about his mother. Not ever.

He blinked, eyes still on her, but looking through her now. They were the colour of the sky now; clear and beautiful. “My mom was so mad.” He said softly. “She was so worried. I came back after dinner – but I took her…” he stilled again. “I took her to the place I’d found. She wasn’t so mad after that. She could never stay mad long.”

Jennifer started walking this time, hoping he’d follow. “What was the place?” she asked over her shoulder.

“A beach.” He said quietly. “I don’t think anyone’d actually been there. The only way to get there was through the dunes; but it was so perfect. White sand, crystal clear water; the works.” They didn’t make much noise going through the field – the rustling of the breeze through the sunflower’s papery leaves making more sound than them; so, she could hear him catch up to her. “We stayed to watch the sunset there. It turned everything this shade of gold – I don’t think I’ve ever seen it again.”

There was a note of finality in his voice then, and she honoured it. She hadn’t heard him speak so much before – and the wistfulness in his voice was pulling on her stomach. If it was anyone else, she thought, she’d have already pulled them in for a comforting hug. But it was Billy Hargrove; and although he was full of opposites – gold, soft sunsets, and red, red violence – he was also impossibly predictable. Any sort of emotional support; physical or not – he seemed to shun with a passion that could only equal the anger that seemed to simmer inside him.

He was red, and he was sometimes blue; and now gold.


	9. Sunflower Sundress: Part 2

They splayed themselves out half-in the shade of one of the trees, and half-out. Billy took up the sun, Jennifer setting up her easel in the shade, but if she stuck a hand out, she could feel the warmth on her skin, a put a shadow over Billy’s face.

Her companion had already pulled out one of the apples, and was chewing with an almost thoughtful look on his face as he regarded the sprawling sunflowers below them. Jennifer set up her paints carefully, pouring out a capful of water from the large flask she’d brought to clean her brushes, and meticulously arranging her easel at the right angle.

Up on top of the hill, she could see the road, the top of her car, and the forest that surrounded the town – a distant smudge of green. They could have been anywhere really – the lack of familiar geographical indicators somehow comforting. It was like they’d teleported into a dream.

Painting came to her easily, like breathing, the brush an extension of what she saw. The motion was easy; yellow vibrant on her canvas paper. Of course, she’d start with the flowers. She didn’t attempt to capture the whole scene at once; instead practicing and mimicking the various shapes of the flowers, some with petals outstretched, some angled, droopy, half-closed. Before long, her tiny palette turning into a myriad of yellows; bright and pure, muddied and golden, dark, nearly green, some nearly white.

“What does ‘perpetual’ mean?” Billy’s sudden question almost made her startle; lifting the brush from her paper and turning to look at him. The Fellowship of the Ring was in his left hand, his other hand shielding his squinting eyes from the sun as he looked at her, his shirt unbuttoned all the way. She smiled.

“Perpetual… mmmm, like – never-ending, or never changing.” She turned back to her work as he hummed with understanding. She couldn’t resist _one_ jab. “How’s the book?” she asked teasingly, grinning at the young bloom on her page.

“Shut up.” He grumbled without heat. “I can still change my mind.” He said, almost threateningly.

“You can do whatever you like.” Jennifer told him, as a breeze ruffled her hair, cooling the beading of sweat on the back of her neck. She didn’t know how Billy could stand the full wrath of the sun; but he seemed perfectly content, sprawled in the sunlight like a housecat. His – or her – earring sparkled in the light, and as he thumbed over the next page, she thought he looked happy.

It was nice.

Nice to see this relaxed side to him. Away from Hawkins, he looked the most peaceful she’d ever seen him. It made a small part of her want to keep him here; in this warm, yellow place. _Perpetually_. She smiled to herself again. _Billy freaking Hargrove – happy as a housecat, reading Lord of the Rings in the sun, next to a Hawkins High loser._

Who’d have thought it.

 

* * *

 

He finished the first couple of chapters before his eyes and head started to hurt. He liked Frodo – but Samwise was funnier. The wording was just so damn dense, it was hard to get through.

Jennifer was still painting beside him, face stilled in a faraway expression he’d come to know. He set the book aside, and scooted into the shade. As much as he loved the sun, he wasn’t hanging out to burn to a crisp. He expected a bit of a tan, which would be nice – but even back at home, he burnt if he stayed out too long. He’d thought that maintaining his sun-kissed bronze look would be difficult, considering the general greyness of Hawkins. He’d felt it when he crossed the damn border; all the warmth and sun sucked away to reveal the truth of the boring town. It was… nice. Nice to find a patch of sun.

He eyed Jennifer’s easel, looking over the near-perfect rendition of the landscape in front of them. She had a talent, like nothing else he’d ever seen. At school, when they were made to look at art, he’d never liked any of it. But he liked the way she did it; the way she could translate the _life_ onto her page. He squinted, standing up to get a better look – looming a little over her, because he couldn’t help the impulse to make her squirm. She didn’t react much, but he still caught the tensing of her shoulders.

Towards the edge of the horizon, where in real life, the green of the forest began – there was a glimmering stretch of water, just a little darker and a little greener than the blue sky that took up the top of the page.

“I didn’t think there were beaches this far inland.” He said, watching the back of her head as she lowered her paintbrush from the green stalk of one of the sunflowers.

When she turned to look at him, he wasn’t expecting the earnestness in her eyes. It made him take a step back. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” She said, a little sheepishly. “Your beach.”

A stirring of anger. “It wasn’t _my_ beach.” He snapped. “And it would be impossible.”

Jennifer drew herself up a little, looking confused. It just made him more irritated. _Why did she paint it? It’s not- it can’t-_ “It’s just a painting. Art can be anything, Billy.” She said.

“Would you _stop_ calling me that?” he growled, that warmth in the pit of his stomach only stoking his growing discomfort and anger.

She frowned. “Calling you what? Your _name_?” she laughed a little disbelievingly. “What do you want me to call you then? Your highness?”

“No- that’s not-” he stopped, running a hand through his hair roughly – tugging on it, trying to focus with the dull pain. “It doesn’t matter, just _don’t_. We’re not – friends.” he told her meanly, watching the way her face fell slightly with a sick mixture of satisfaction and horror. _Why did he say that? No – he was right to say that. They weren’t friends._ He didn’t even know what he was doing here. “What the fuck am I doing here?” he asked aloud, laughing a little disbelievingly.

Jennifer’s lips were in a tight line. “My apologies, your highness.” She said, voice hard with hurt. Billy couldn’t look at her. “I never meant to impose the _illusion_ of friendship on you.”

Billy rolled his eyes, lips coming up in an instinctive snarl. “Oh – like you wouldn’t run around telling everyone we were buddy-buddy if we were; just to get a little attention, a little social _boost_ …” that’s what they all did. Tommy H., his little bitch of a girlfriend, Tina, Jake, Hugo, Megan- fuck, he could name half the _fucking_ school, they were all so far up his ass. That’s all they wanted; they wanted to say they had a piece of him – they played a game with him, they had a night with him, they stole a kiss, they were his _best friends_ – and they were all _bullshit_. Just like _her._

Jennifer looked the most angry he’d seen her; and he wanted to laugh in her face – because what did she know about _anger_. “You don’t know a thing about me, asshole. If you really think that I _care_ about stupid, vapid high-school politics-”

“AND YOU DON’T KNOW ME!” he bellowed at her, watching her flinch. The lack of guilt should have been worrying; but he’d been apathetic about others’ fear for years. He had to be, he couldn’t do _anything_ without it. _Is it better to be loved or feared?_ “You don’t know one fucking thing about me, princess – not you, not _anyone_ in your tiny, dead-end fucking town!”

Her voice was deadly quiet when she finally spoke. She was looking at him too, with her eyes round and sad – and he _hated_ her just then. “I might not know who you are, Billy Hargrove – but I know _what_ you are.”

He gave her a savage grin. “Oh yeah?”

She bit at her bottom lip so hard he almost expected to see red blooming there – but there was nothing. “I know you’re afraid.” The only noise was his own harsh breathing and the wind in the flowers. Still, she didn’t look away. “I know you’re afraid of being seen. I don’t know what you’re running from, Billy – but I know that building up all your walls, all your personas and charm – won’t make it stop. And I might not know who you are, but I know a mask when I see one.”

What he was running from.

_What he was running from._

“We don’t have to be friends, Billy. We don’t have to be anything at all – but _please_ don’t mistake me for one of them.” Her voice was impossibly soft, and he looked away, looked past her – out into the flowers, into the sky, and pretended for a moment that the blue was water.

And all at once, his anger left him, and he sagged. It was almost like a physical blow; the way it left him so tired, so weak. In its place was an impossibly vast feeling of… loneliness.

Lonely. He felt so _lonely_.

 

* * *

 

“ _M’rry_.”

He spoke so quietly that she missed it, and Jennifer leant a little closer to him. “Pardon?”

His eyes slid to her face suddenly, the exhaustion in them breaking her heart a little. “I’m sorry.” He said, clearly. “I’m sorry.”

Jennifer was hurting, equal parts sad, confused and angry. She hadn’t meant to upset him, and she hadn’t meant to snap – but she’d seen the parts of him that she’d been trying to pretend didn’t exist, and it hurt. Because he was a _bully_ , and he was _cruel_ and _angry_ , and he projected a constant persona that she’d only ever seen weaken. And still – there was a part of her that not only pitied him, but _cared_ for him. It was a startling feeling, especially considering his less-than-kind nature. But she did, she realised, she did care. He obviously needed something stable in his life, something calming – and maybe that was why he kept coming back to her, why he stayed – and even if it meant he was using her, then that was okay. If peace was all she could offer, all he would accept, then that was okay.

“It’s okay.” She told him. And it was. People didn’t change in a day, and some never changed at all. Billy was Billy, and she was herself.

He blinked at her, the tiny bit of fight in his eyes fading into the rest of his tiredness. “It’s okay?” he repeated questioningly.

Jennifer couldn’t help but smile at him. “Yeah. Should we eat the sandwiches.” She made for her bag, but the hand that fell on her shoulder made her stand again, looking at him – trying to ignore the faint trepidation in her gut.

“We’re friends, Jennifer.” He said, with a sudden wide-eyed frightened look that belied the strength of his voice. “We are.” He said, with even more uncertainty. Again, there was the odd sense of him waiting to be confirmed or contradicted – a child’s sensibility.  

She paused, mouth dropping open slightly. It was more out of surprise than deliberation; she knew what she’d say as the statement left his lips. “Of course.” She said softly, watching as his face relaxed, his hands squeezing on her shoulder before he dropped his arm. She cleared her throat, willing the strange flush across her cheeks away. “Do you want ham, or peanut-jelly?”

“Whichever.” He said, just as quietly, taking a seat on the grass again.

She joined him, eyes straying to her painting again. The yellow of the flowers no longer seemed so joyful; they seemed to pulse like a warning.

She split the sandwiches between them, and shoved down the notion, focussing instead on Billy’s careful politeness. The faint discomfort remained.


	10. Eyes Shut/Schoolyard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey beautiful people! Sorry for not updating in a while (And sorry it's a bit of a short one) - and I'm afraid the irregular updates might become a trend... I'm going on my 6-month holiday this Friday, and whilst I definitely intend to continue Jenny & Billy, and Charlie & Steve's stories - it might take me a little longer... I hope I don't lose you all, and please keep checking back in, because I will write when I can, and don't want to leave my babies unfinished! 
> 
> Lots of love to everyone who reviews and favourites and bookmarks - you all mean the world to me, and are definitely one of the biggest motivators for me to write. xxxxxxx

It was late by the time they pulled up at his house.

The lights were off, but his car was there, and the faint feeling of warning was already building in his stomach. His father was, no doubt, waiting for him.

All at once, the sun-drenched hours of earlier seemed a million miles away, and the pit in his stomach was swallowing him. He sucked in a quiet breath, trying to steady his heart-rate, which was – to his chagrin – already rising. _Nothing had even happened yet, why the hell was his body freaking out?_

“Hey.” The sudden warmth of a hand over his made him aware of how tightly he was clutching at the seat. He looked over at Jennifer, who was looking him with obvious concern. He clenched his jaw and shook her hand off – praying his face wouldn’t betray him. She let his hand go, but her body followed him as he opened the door. “Are you alright?”

Billy kept his eyes on the house. He didn’t think he could lie to her – not after today, not right now when everything felt so close to the surface. He was sweating. “Yeah.” He said shortly. He didn’t let her respond, didn’t give himself the temptation to linger any longer; standing and slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed in the quiet street. _If Neil hadn’t been awake before, he was surely awake now._

 _Good_.

He squared his shoulders.

His father was always telling him to man up. To take it like a man. So, here he was. Going to take it like a man.

Billy could still hear Jennifer’s car idling behind him. He hoped, with a faint sense of discomfort, that she wouldn’t stick around. He’d grown out of screaming years ago – and usually it didn’t get that bad, hadn’t been that bad in a long while – but still. He wanted to separate the sunflower fields from the house. He couldn’t do that if she stayed.

Thankfully, she drove off as he fumbled with the door handle, hands shaky.

 

* * *

 

“Jennifer! Hurry up! I’m gonna be late!”

Jennifer flinched at Tina’s loud voice, jolting upright over her bowl of frosted flakes. _Shit_. She was running behind – a quick glance at the clock told her that she was about five minutes from making them late. Late to math was _not_ how she wanted to start off her Monday. Mr. Jackson didn’t need more incentive to hate her – she was sure his passion for yelling at her rivalled his strange obsession with Pythagoras theorem.

She left her breakfast, hurrying upstairs to get into clothes – grabbing whatever she could find and pulling it on. Tina was already in the car – and as she got outside, she could see her twin lean over and beep the horn. The sound made her jump. “Coming, coming!” she said, and slid into the driver’s seat.

“God, what is with you?” Tina griped, glaring at her over her sunglasses.

Jennifer shrugged, flicking on her indicator as she made a right hand-turn. “Sorry. I was… distracted.”

She had been. Turns out, ruminating on the fear on Billy’s face took longer than it should have. Jennifer was no doctor, no expert on anything really – but the way he had reacted the night before had been… unusual. Sweating, heavy-breathing, shaky hands, and an undeniable, deep-rooted terror in his eyes.

She hadn’t wanted to leave him; didn’t think _he_ wanted her to leave – but she couldn’t say she had enough confidence in their tentative ‘friendship’, or whatever it was, to do it. It didn’t stop her from feeling guilty, and, dare she say it; worried. She couldn’t help but frown at herself. It wasn’t the first time that the realisation that she worried about Billy Hargrove made an odd discomfort settle in her belly. Maybe it was because, along with the worry – she also knew that he wouldn’t reciprocate. _Couldn’t_ reciprocate.

She was back to feeling guilty.

Jennifer hunkered down over the wheel slightly, trying to drown out her thoughts with the awful, cheesy pop Tina was caterwauling along to.

 

* * *

 

They were, in fact, late – and Jennifer had to bite her tongue through Mr. Jackson’s lecture, trying to stop herself from pointing out that the amount of time it was taking him to yell at her was only delaying the class further. Finally though, it was over, and she collapsed into her seat.

The girl who sat next to her leant over with a sympathetic expression. She was pretty – in a way that was unusual for their small town. “Hey – sorry you had to suffer through that.” She whispered, keeping her dark eyes on the blackboard. Jennifer thought she looked a little like a cat, with a thin, angular face, full lips; and the way her eyes were hooded had the effect of looking as if she was a little sleepy.

Jennifer smiled slightly, despite the embarrassment still reddening her cheeks, and the irritation still simmering away in her stomach. “I think _everyone_ had to suffer through it.”

The girl smirked, and tossed her long, black plait over her shoulder with a practiced ease. “The suffering begins when you step foot in this accursed place.” Jennifer grinned properly at the dramatic turn of phrase. “Never stop dreaming, Jennifer McCaine.”

Jennifer’s eyes widened slightly. _How did she know her name?_ before she could ask, and apologize for not ever speaking to her neighbour before today, Mr. Jackson slammed the textbook down onto his desk with a filthy glare that seemed to burn right through her. She sat back slightly, and resigned herself to confusion.

Unluckily for her, before she could even say a word, her seat-mate had already swept her neatly arranged stationary away, and was out of the door without so much as a backwards glance. Jennifer watched her go for a moment as she absently packed away her own things. She disappeared into the crowds quickly, and Jennifer’s vague thought about finding her disappeared at the sight of a familiar head of curls.

It was obvious he was limping, but if he was any shorter, and her any slower – she would have lost him. Jennifer pulled her bag over her shoulder, and hurried after Billy. The crowds thinned out around the entrance to the cafeteria, and she managed to catch up to him, reaching out to grab –

 _Her_ bomber jacket.

“Hey, Billy – oh, that’s mine!” she half-greeted, as he turned to look at her, her eyes falling to look at her green and blue jacket. It was with a genuine sadness that she realised it definitely looked better on him. Billy’s eyebrow was raised by the time she looked back at him, and she had another shock of realisation that the middle of the high-school corridors was definitely the _last_ place Billy Hargrove wanted to be seen with her. “Sorry – sorry, I just – never mind…” she was already turning, already slinking away before his hand fell firmly on her shoulder, spinning her in place with an annoyed sigh.

He looked irritated, which didn’t help her growing shame – but the raised eyebrow was more expectant now. “What is it, princess?”

“Um.” Jennifer flushed scarlet as a passing gaggle of girls stared at them openly. “I just – I wanted to see if you were okay? You’re… limping.” She finished lamely. Billy’s face grew unreadable, and he stared at her long enough to make Jennifer shrink. She cleared her throat. “And, uh, the jacket looks good?” she squeaked.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitched, and then he rolled his eyes. “You’re a weirdo, you know?”

“What, for caring?” she fired back, before realising that it was definitely _too much information, and god, why did she tell him she cared, so stupid –_ “That’s wh-what friends do.” She said boldly, belying her ridiculous blush.

Billy smirked, shaking his head. “Whatever.” His gaze turned thoughtful, as he looked towards the cafeteria. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked suddenly, and Jennifer blanched.

“What?! No – I’m not _ditching_ school!” she admonished in a harsh whisper. “Are you _crazy?”_ _What if a teacher heard? What if she got-_

Billy barked a laugh, actually reaching out to ruffle her hair patronizingly. She scowled at him. “No, stupid – I meant like eating outside.” He shrugged. “S’too crowded in there.”

Jennifer tilted her head, “Did your dad make you lunch or something?” she asked.

Billy’s face went that same strange still again, and something like anger flashed in his eyes – but the next second it was gone, replaced with the smile that dripped charm. He fluttered his lashes once at her. “No – but you’ll share, won’t you, princess?”

Jennifer sighed, shaking _her_ head this time – but lead the way nonetheless, not missing his surreptitious look around before he followed her. She would have been surprised if he hadn’t – but it didn’t stop the small flare of hurt. She was a loser. She couldn’t forget.

By the time he caught up to her, even with his faint limp, she’d cleared it away – and managed to turn and smile at him. “I hope you like ham sandwiches.” Billy overtook her, striding towards a picnic bench with two underclassmen reading the same book and exchanging loaded glances. She smiled softly. _Ah, young love_.

“Fuck off.” Billy snapped, making the pair jump in fright – take one look at his glower, and scramble to gather their stuff.

“ _Billy!_ ” Jennifer gasped, unsure whether to call them back to apologize or berate the boy who was making himself comfortable on the bench.

“What?” he turned to her, “Yes, I like ham sandwiches.” Jennifer narrowed her eyes at him, and he grinned toothily, patting the empty bench beside him.

“You’re horrible.” She told him seriously. “No wonder no one likes you.” She sat next to him anyway, offering him the paper bag. He ripped into it nosily, pulling out a sandwich and reclining slightly.

“So what? They don’t have to like me. They just have to envy me.” Billy said casually, taking a huge bite of the sandwich. Jennifer wrinkled her nose at him.

“That’s sad.”

Billy shrugged, and kicked up his legs. Jennifer made a displeased noise as his legs settled over her lap. He was heavy, and entirely unapologetic as he slid his sunglasses over his eyes. “It’s a way of life, princess.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” She told him, gingerly resting her arms on his shins as she unwrapped her own sandwich. He didn’t respond, but she could feel his eyes on her through his sunglasses. She sighed. “Mr. Jackson ripped me a new one this morning.” She grumbled.

“What’d you do?” he snorted. “I thought you were a goody-two-shoes.”

Jennifer pouted slightly. “I was _late_ – he just hates me. For no reason!”

“But you were late.”

Jennifer gaped at him. “No – that’s not – he’s _always, always_ hated me! It’s not-” she realised the faint shaking was his silent laughter, and she snapped her mouth shut, pinching at the flesh of his thigh and making him wince. “Don’t laugh at me! I never laugh at you!”

Billy sat up quickly, with a scowl. “That’s a lie.”

Jennifer relented slightly. “Okay – maybe I have, but you _definitely_ deserved it.”

“I was at my _weakest,_ my most _vulnerable_ – and you laughed at me.” Billy said indignantly.

“As I said; you deserved it.”

He threw the balled-up paper bag at her, and she let it bounce harmlessly off the side of her face, before sprinkling crumbs on his jeans. He just groaned, collapsing back and throwing an arm over his face.

The atmosphere was light; golden, like the sunflower field – and if Jennifer closed her eyes – she could pretend not to hear the sounds of the school-yard, she could pretend that the wind was rustling through the flowers, that the sun on her face was full and hot.

She closed her eyes.


	11. Shirts/Skins/Sensitivities

The next day was much the same; if she was anyone else – maybe her sister, or her mother – she may have said her life was boring. But not her. Jennifer liked he familiar ebb and flow of her life; she liked the fact that when the sun rose, her room went gold, she liked that her locker was close to the art rooms so she could go there during lunches, she liked the way her car always made a little clicking sound before it started up, she liked having time to herself.

Maybe a little too much time, really.

Some people would say she was a loner. Some people being Billy Hargrove; but considering they had spent more time together outside of school than she had with her sister since middle school, he couldn’t really _talk_.

_Sensitive much?_

Jennifer shook her head at herself as she headed to math. Being alone – a.k.a. having no friends – didn’t bother her; at least it didn’t use to bother her. Now… well, now, she was acutely aware of it. Of the gaggle of girls giggling together against the lockers, at the loud handshakes exchanged between a pair of boys on the basketball team, as a couple kissed each other chastely, affectionately.

She sped up, hurrying towards her classroom – usually she dragged her feet, and maybe that was part of the reason Mr. Jackson hated her, but either way, today she made it there early – and nearly ran into her seat-neighbour. Standing, Jennifer could see that they were around the same height, but the way she stood belied the fact. It wasn’t that she was hunched over – more so that the air she gave off made it seem as if she was trying to be smaller. The girl smiled at her, a tiny, almost knowing smile.

Jennifer blanched. “Oh – I’m so sorry! I swear I’m not usually like this.” She though back to all the times she had, or nearly had run into Billy, and grimaced. “Okay, maybe I’m a little like this.”

“It’s cool, McClaine.” The girl nodded. “You’re not usually in a hurry to get to class, what gives?” Jennifer could detect the faintest edge of an accent, the self-conscious kind, a slight over-exaggeration of vowels to sound more like the crowd around them.

Jennifer’s embarrassment reared it’s head. “I don’t know… I’m sorry – I don’t think I caught your name on the first day.” _Or any day after that…_ she thought ruefully.

The girl’s smile widened for a brief second – before Jennifer saw her physically dim it down, champing down on her plump bottom lip. “It’s Hannah. Hannah Kim.” The name _Kim_ she knew. Mr. and Mrs. Kim had once sent their youngest child to a science club Dustin had attended back in elementary school, and from the look of Hannah – she doubted she was thinking of a different family.

“Well, nice to meet you properly, Hannah, sorry.” Jennifer stuck out her hand, Hannah juggling her surplus of notebooks in order to grasp it. She had a firm grip, and didn’t break eye contact with Jennifer.

“Sure is. Any enemy of Mr. Jackson is a friend of mine.” Hannah quipped lightly, making Jennifer laugh in surprise. “Oh – speak of the devil…”

Jennifer turned to follow Hannah’s gaze down the hall. Mr. Jackson was indeed striding towards them, with little regard to the students crowding the corridor, shoving through roughly. Jennifer grimaced. “And he shall appear.” She finished with a groan. Hannah snorted.

With Hannah by her side, a little of Jennifer’s earlier anxieties eased. She was surprisingly sarcastic, witty under the thick wire-framed glasses she slid over her cat’s eyes as they got on to bookwork. Jennifer thought it was probably the most she’d enjoyed a math class… ever. When the bell rang for their next class, this time, Hannah lingered – looking down at her with a slightly hesitant look on her face. “Hey, uh, at lunch – did you wanna come and chill with me and my friends?” Jennifer blinked. Within the next second of her hesitance, Hannah’s face shut down – the small glimmer of what must have been hope in her eyes fading. “Don’t worry about it – I know you’re… _friends_ with Billy Hargrove anyway.” It was the slight derision in her voice that kicked Jennifer into gear.

“Oh! No – god I, I would love to – I was just surprised…” Jennifer babbled. Hannah’s eyebrow rose slightly. Jennifer shut herself up. “And I mean… I guess so?” She hadn’t thought anyone had really noticed their odd meetings, especially not with Billy subtle precautions – whether he knew she noticed or not.

Hannah shrugged, suddenly looking friendly again. “He’s an asshole.” She said simply. Jennifer couldn’t help the faint defensiveness that rose in her.

“He… can be.” She said carefully, trying not to let the sunflowers and secrets spill out. Hannah tilted her head, as if waiting for more. Jennifer pretended she hadn’t seen the gesture, and stood. “Where should I meet you?”

Hannah shrugged, “We usually camp out near the gym.” Jennifer nodded, making a mental note. They walked out together, Jennifer turning right towards the art rooms, Hannah heading towards the science labs. “See ya, McClaine.”

“See you, Hannah.” Jennifer said, with genuine cheerfulness. It was an odd sensation, the slight butterflies of meeting someone new. Of a tentative friendship. It buoyed her through art, and then through sport, despite the constant horribleness of attempting badminton.

 

 

* * *

 

At lunch, she hurried to her locker, and pulled out her lunch. It was the boots appearing under her locker door that clued her in to her visitor, and unsurprised, closed her door to reveal Billy. He was wearing his own jacket this time, but Jennifer’s eyes went to his ear, to the little sunflower stud just barely visible through his curly hair. It made her smile, and maybe it was her excitement that made it bright enough to make him raise his eyebrows. “What’s up with you?” he asked, eyes going to her lunch.

“Nothing really. I’m going to head to the gym for lunch with some people from math.” Jennifer told him, “Want to come?”

He grinned. “Haha, real funny. D’you reckon those kids have left the bench free again?” he asked, shutting her locker door for her. She frowned.

“I’m not kidding.”

He scoffed. “Okay, you might not be kidding, but you’re still having lunch with me.” He reached out to ruffle her hair, in what she was starting to realise was an embarrassingly patronizing gesture. She ducked away from his hand.

“Why can’t we go to the gym?” she asked him. He looked irritated now, and she didn’t miss his glance behind himself.

“Because-” he began, before stopping himself with a broad smile, his posture changing instantly as his eyes slid over her shoulder. Jennifer turned around, to see Tommy H, and the rest of the basketball team approaching, surrounded as always, with their female admirers. Jennifer spotted Tina the second her twin did her, her heart dropping slightly.

“Yo – Billy, we’re scrimmaging, you comin’?” Tommy called, ignoring her as if she were a stray bit of paper, as he brushed past her to shake Billy’s hand. Jennifer could feel her sister’s eyes on her, and tried to step away.

“What, you losers need me that much?” Billy asked coolly, tone completely changed. Jennifer didn’t want to look at him.

Tommy laughed, loud and overly boisterous. “Of course, man!” It came across as slightly nervous. Jennifer pretended to fiddle with her locker.

“Fine.” Billy exhaled, and Jennifer could catch the edge of his tight smirk out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look back as he began to lead the pack out of the school, heading towards the gym. Something cold and bitter settled in her mouth, and Jennifer bit her lip hard.

“What were you two doing?”

Jennifer jumped at her sister’s voice, suddenly very close and viciously suspicious in her ear. She turned to look up at her twin, at Tina’s hard gaze. “Nothing.” She mumbled. Tina stared at her. “Nothing at all.” Jennifer reiterated.

It was probably more the fact that she was getting left behind, rather than any real belief in Jennifer’s statement that made her sister relent, stepping back and shooting her a scowl. “I’ll see you afterschool.” Tina said, like a promise, almost like a threat.

Jennifer nodded uneasily, waiting until she heard the front doors swing open and shut again after her sister before she sagged slightly. _Right._

He _could_ go to the gym, of course he could. _Just not with her_.

She was tempted to retreat entirely, that bitterness making her eyes sting. It was perhaps a desire to not let him get the better of her, that spurred her on anyway. Billy freakin’ Hargrove had _no_ effect on her, no sir. She clenched her lunch bag a little tighter, and headed towards the gym.

Hannah was waiting for her outside, chewing on a large pink wad of bubble-gum. At her approach, she straightened. “Hey, McClaine. The others are already in there.” She jabbed a finger at the gym itself.

Jennifer felt her heart drop again. “Oh. L-like _inside_?”

Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Yeah I know, how lame right? But all Rob and Dakota wanna do is stare at those meatheads. I’m hoping that you’ll be the vote to sway them against it.”

“Ah.” Jennifer said eloquently. _Rob and Dakota…_ She swallowed a little nervously. The last thing she wanted to do right then was go into the gym, go in and see _him_. Hannah raised a waiting eyebrow, and Jennifer panicked a little. She didn’t want to mess things up with Hannah and her friends before they even started. “Yeah, let’s… let’s go.” She said reluctantly, forcing a smile onto her face, and following Hannah into the gym.

The sound of ball bouncing, yelling and the squeak of sneakers told her they were already on the court – and she turned her head away resolutely, instead looking towards the bleachers, which were dotted with various groups of kids, including her sister and her friends down the very front, a group of underclassmen watching the team with wide eyes – and a pair of students up the very, very back of the bleachers; the boy waving furiously. _That must be Rob._ She thought to herself, as Hannah began to climb the bleachers towards them.

Hannah threw herself down next to the girl, who was staring hard at Jennifer – the boy just grinned. “Hey there, you must be Jennifer! My name is Dakota! It’s nice to see a new, friendly face!” he gushed brightly. Jennifer blinked. _Oh_.

“Robin.” The girl supplied, giving her a nod. “Don’t let him freak you out, he’s just very…” she seemed to want to say something, before she just grinned. “ _Excited.”_ She finished instead. Hannah sighed loudly, as Dakota giggled, shoving Robin. Jennifer laughed, and sat down at Hannah’s urging.

“Ooo – Billy’s on skins!” Dakota trilled happily, turning to waggle his eyebrows at them. Jennifer clenched her jaw and looked down at her lap.

“Dude, gross.” Hannah said lightly, Robin nodding once in agreement.

Dakota rolled his eyes, “you two can get off your high horse, there ain’t nothing wrong with admitting that Billy is a fine specimen, right, Jennifer?”

Jennifer looked up at her name, meeting Dakota’s imploring gaze. She took a look down at the court, and immediately wished she hadn’t, as she blushed furiously. _What the hell was wrong with her?_ “Uh, yeah, I suppose.” She muttered, turning her face to the floor.

It didn’t matter though. She was still bright red.

Okay, so she _knew,_ objectively speaking, that Billy was attractive. He was handsome, in a classical sort of way, sometimes even _pretty_ – but Jennifer had never seen him like _that_ , shirtless and sweating and looking equal parts fierce and playful.

Sue her – she was a living, breathing human, and sometimes… _sometimes…_ she had human reactions to things. Billy was just… one of those things. She swallowed dryly. And anyway – she was still _angry_ with him.

“Leave her alone, Kota,” Hannah said in a teasing tone, “Billy’s her _friend…”_ she cooed. Jennifer hunkered down slightly, again torn between defensiveness and dismissal. She stayed silent.

It was Robin who came to her rescue. “ _Both_ of you, leave her alone. There are more important things to worry about, like; will Steve Harrington ever show his face on the court again?” she asked dramatically, sending Dakota into a flurry of gossip, and Hannah into showy annoyance. Jennifer caught Robin’s eye, and sent her a small smile of thanks. Robin just winked at her.


	12. Go Ahead And Cry Little Girl

“McClaine. Hey. McClaine! _Jennifer!_ Ugh, _Jenny!”_

Jennifer whirled around at the nickname – making eye contact with an irate looking Billy. His eyebrows were raised expectantly, and his hair was still damp from the shower he must have taken after his basketball. For once, the little winking reflection of her earring didn’t bring a smile to her face. She must have been angrier than she thought. Maybe hurt was the right word.

“What?” she asked sharply. They were in the parking lot, the rest of the school rushing around them, everyone eager to get home, and the sun was already on the way down, everything going faintly bronze. It was getting colder every day, but as a stiff wind blew past them, she refused to shiver. His eyebrows rose even higher.

“Shit, who pissed in your tea, princess?” he bit back, a faint smirk on his face. She remained unmoved. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wh-what’s wrong with _me?_ ” Jennifer stuttered in her outrage. “There is nothing wrong with _me_.”

Billy shook his head. “Oh – did Mr. Jackson rip you another one today or somethin’?”

She stared at him in disbelief. The hurt and anger that had been stewing in her stomach began to bubble up, and she found herself on the verge of yelling. Instead, she clenched her jaw tight shut, and turned to stalk away.

“ _Hey_!” Billy called after her, before clearing his throat and jogging after her. “Hey.” He repeated, much quieter, looking around as he stopped in front of her. She rolled her eyes. “ _What?”_ he asked, and it was the genuine confusion in his eyes that did it.

“Jesus Christ.” She said incredulously. “You really have _no_ self-awareness, do you?” to her embarrassment, her throat felt tight, and there was a burning starting behind her eyes as he looked around warily again.

“What the fuck?” he snapped, “How am _I_ the bad guy? _You’re_ the one that blew me off today to hang out with a bunch of freaks!”

“‘ _Blew you off?’”_ Jennifer’s voice rose a pitch, and Billy’s eyes widened slightly. “I wasn’t the one who ditched you in the corridor and pretended you didn’t exist! I wasn’t the one who called your friends freaks, who made fun of you!” It came spilling out of her in a hot ugly rush, and she was well aware that people were starting to stare now, both because of her volume, and the nervous looks Billy was shooting at the students around them. “It’s not _fair_ , Billy – I knew that you would be ashamed, I knew you wouldn’t actually want people to know about us – I _knew_ you wouldn’t – but don’t you _dare_ stop me from trying to have other friends if you won’t be mine!”

He had backed up a step, eyes still wide as he stared at her. There was a long beat of silence, in which they stared at each other; broken by the rapidly approaching step of someone hurrying towards them – “What’s going on?”

“ _None of your-”_

_“Nothing.”_

Billy and Jennifer snapped in unison at Tina, who scowled. Jennifer cleared her throat, turning decidedly away from Billy. “Nothing at all.” She repeated, the déjà vu erased by the heat in her voice. “Ready to go home?”

“Uh, yeah…” Tina said slowly, turning to look at Billy with distinct suspicion. “Let’s go. Bye, Billy.” For once, her voice was devoid of the vapid flirtatiousness it usually held when she spoke to Billy – and as Jennifer began to walk away, her twin followed her silently.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was awkward.

Jennifer was still sitting in her cloud of hurt; silent and irritable, her father was, as usual, quiet and unobtrusive, her mother was oddly still – and her sister was staring at her hard, as if trying to work something out.

It didn’t surprise anyone when her mother – just after desert had been placed in front of them by Jennifer – burst out with a loud sigh. “My goodness, what is the matter with you all? I mean – I know _I’ve_ had a long day, but what could you all possibly be tired for?”

It was the usual self-centeredness of the comment that got her. Jennifer could usually ignore it – but today, she couldn’t take it. “Oh, fuck _off_ , mom.” She snapped, standing up abruptly – the table shaking with her movement. Her mother gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth, her father blinking owlishly – but Jennifer didn’t stick around to see what the outcome would be. She turned on her heel, kicking her chair out of the way and striding upstairs. She slammed her door, revelling in the loud sound, and threw herself down onto her bed.

It was all very dramatic.

She could have laughed at herself, if it had been any other day. But as it was, all she could manage was one shuddering breath before she began to cry into her pillow, letting her tears soak into the fabric and pretending that she was over it all.

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t sleep.

Well – in saying that, he was of the habit to stay up all night for the hell of it, for the thrill of it – but tonight it wasn’t a choice.

He shifted, listening to his mattress creak slightly, all too aware of the dull, heavy, nauseating sensation in his gut that was keeping him awake. Billy had felt guilty before; sure, maybe when he had been younger, and he had broken one of his mom’s necklaces – but this was… different.

_Was this what they called remorse?_

It was awful.

He rolled onto his side, eyeing the sliver of moonlight that came through the gap between his slightly too small blind and window. He couldn’t get her out of his head, and that was probably part of the reason he couldn’t sleep too; the dull anger _because_ of it all, the sheer fact that it was _because_ of her that he was feeling this way. Her fault.

No.

_“I knew that you would be ashamed… but don’t you dare stop me from trying to have other friends if you won’t be mine!”_

He kept hearing it, ringing in his ears with the same impossible hurt volume she had conjured in the parking lot. _Ashamed_. That word felt an awful lot like fear, like cowardice – and some part of him wanted to rebel against the feeling, because _fuck_ he was done with being afraid.

The white-hot feeling rose in him again, and he clenched his fists, trying to let the anger roll over him. It worked somewhat – but it lingered like it always seemed to, licking at him, like spice would linger on his tongue, like the smell of paint stuck in his nose after he had left her house, like the warmth of the sun stayed on his skin for hours-

He sat up, and ran his hand roughly through his hair. _Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

It was stupid; but he got up anyway, and let himself silently out of the house, and was half-way to her house before he realised she didn’t know he was coming and that it was nearing three in the morning. He slowly hit the brake.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

His voice was loud in the silence of his car, and he threw his head back, ignoring the faint throb of pain his eye gave. Pain was easy to deal with. Fuck, he’d been dealing with it all his life – but it was _this_ shit; the confusing snare of emotions he didn’t really understand – that made him falter. Again – he could trace the bulk of them. _Jennifer McClaine._

He shook his head, and started the car again, resolve strengthening. He didn’t know what he was going to do, what he was going to say – but the only thing he was sure of, was that he needed to see her.

 

* * *

 

Scaling the tree outside her window was far too easy; even with the still healing bruises and aches in his leg. Maybe if he was someone else, he’d advise her to keep her window locked, because who knew the types of people that might sneak into her house that way. But he _was_ the type of person who would, and as he slowly eased her window up, he almost smiled. She was too trusting to listen to him anyway, and this hick town didn’t strike him as particularly dangerous. He stuck his head through first, making sure the floor below the window was clear, and was just about to manoeuvre his way inside – when he caught sight of her.

It was obvious she’d been crying; the light from her dim lamp caught on the still wet tracks of tears on her cheek that wasn’t mashed into her pillow. Her face was still crumpled, brows caught in an uneasy frown, fingers clutching tightly at her duvet, curled so tight on top of her covers that she was dwarfed by her double mattress. He paused, freezing as if caught in the act.

His chest constricted strangely, and he pressed a hand to it, massaging slightly to get rid of the sensation as he looked at her. She looked small and vulnerable, and a deep kind of hurt that just made the remorse in his gut sink heavier.

All at once, he was sorry – and whatever remaining anger faded in the light of the emotion – jarring him enough to retreat, to slide her window back closed, and shimmy down the tree away from her, away from the knot of regret in his chest.

Billy drove home in the same uncomfortable silence as he had headed over in.

The sky was lightening, just slightly, on the edges of the horizon – and perhaps his sleepless night was catching up to him, as his limbs went a bit jelly-like, his head going fuzzy as he headed back to his bed – but something still made him set his alarm early.

The knot in his chest was still tight, and he fell into a restless sleep with his hands clutching at it, at the hot, strange, unnameable emotion settling just above his ribcage.


	13. Sanity

Despite her restless, broken and uncomfortable sleep – Jennifer woke with the sun rising. She felt horrible, unattractive crust in the corner of her eyes, her face blotchy, and her hair a tangled bird’s nest from her tossing and turning.

She sighed, getting out of bed unsteadily, head throbbing with the characteristic pain of crying her eyes out. A hot flush of embarrassment accompanied the pain; she’d _never_ , _ever_ sworn at her parents before – and over what? – a boy?

She groaned, rubbing at her temples. “What the heck is wrong with me?” she asked aloud. There was no answer, no bolt of understanding.

She stewed some more in the shower, trying to work out how best to apologise to her mother. Being grounded wouldn’t exactly change much about her life, and her mother knew it. She didn’t doubt her small creative streak to flare, however, when it came time to doling out punishment. But she didn’t dawdle any longer, heading downstairs to face her fate and whatever else the universe had in store for her.

“Jenny, darling!” Her mother was beaming at her as she entered the kitchen, her bright ‘we-have-company’ people face on, and she was pouring coffee into a mug for-

“ _Billy?!”_   Jennifer squawked disbelievingly.

There he was, sitting smug, with his best charming smile. “Mornin’ Jenny.” He said smoothly, taking a sip of coffee, winking at her over the rim of the mug as her mother turned her head away. Jennifer gaped, thrown for a loop.

“Now, why didn’t you tell me you had such a _sweet_ friend?” Holly McClaine was a hopeless romantic, a fluttery, social housewife who most certainly had a preference for pretty things – and as Billy shot her mother another handsome smile, making her giggle, and fiddle with her necklace – Jennifer felt something like panic rise in her chest.

“I don’t-” Jennifer began helplessly – as loud footsteps began to come down the stairs. She knew without looking, at the sharp intake of breath and cloud of perfume, that it was her sister. She winced.

“Uh, Billy?” Tina sounded just as confused as Jennifer felt. “What’re you doing here?” she sounded as though she couldn’t decide between coquettish and suspicious.

Jennifer just stared, clamping her mouth shut as Billy drained his coffee, before placing it delicately in the sink, striking a pose against the sink that made both her mother and sister sigh quietly. She couldn’t help the strangled choking sound that escaped her. _This was not happening._

“I’m here to take you girls to school. Remember what I said, Jenny?” Billy directed right to her, and for a second, the placid inviting look in his eyes fell away to reveal some form of intensity she didn’t understand. _Apparently, she understood nothing_. She made to shake her head – but was stopped by Tina placing a vice like hand on her shoulder, nails digging in like claws.

“Sounds great. Just let me get my bag.” Her grip tightened once more; a warning, before she turned to flounce away, hair bouncing perfectly.

Her mother was lingering, eyes still roving hungrily over Billy’s figure. Jennifer cleared her throat loudly, cheeks flaming at her mother’s audacity. “Um. Mom? Don’t you have to get to work?” she prompted sharply. Her mother made a squeaking sound, hands flying up to fix her hair.

“Oh – I – yes, I do, yes – um, a _pleasure_ to meet you, Billy – I will-” she coughed, turning to leave the room.

Jennifer’s eyes returned to Billy in the sudden silence, to find him already looking at her. In that moment, her main emotion sharpened into horror, and so she said the first thing she could think of. “ _Please_ don’t sleep with my mom.” Billy’s eyebrow rose, and his lips twitched. In the next moment, they were both laughing; Jennifer vaguely hysterically – her exhaustion and the strangeness of the whole situation getting to her. “What are you actually doing here?” she asked curiously.

Billy shifted, arms coming up over his chest. She realised he was uncomfortable and waited patiently for him to get his thoughts in order. “Uh. I just,” he shrugged, “I’m just… being your friend.” He said simply.

She warmed. “Really?” she asked softly.

He squared his shoulders, like a challenge. “Really.”

Tina announced her re-arrival in the room with a loud cough. “You know Billy, there are less… _weird_ ,” she looked disparagingly at Jennifer, who pressed her lips together tightly. “ways to apologise to me.”

Billy looked vaguely irritated, “Actually-”

“I think it’s lovely.” Jennifer cut him off. There was an awkward beat. He frowned at her uncertainly, and she shrugged.

“I guess.” Tina muttered, stalking towards the front door. As it closed behind her, Billy cracked another smile.

“Is she always like that?” he asked Jennifer as she moved to follow her twin. He held out his hand as she passed, and she paused in confusion. He grabbed impatiently at her bag, hefting it over his shoulder.

She blinked. “Ye-yeah. She’s always like that.”

“Right.” He sighed. “This is gonna be a long drive.” Jennifer grinned at his back. “Don’t laugh at me!” he grumped, not even bothering to turn around.

“I do anything! And you were the one who showed up unannounced…” she closed the door behind them. “You brought this upon yourself.” They turned in unison, looking at Tina, who was checking her reflection in his side mirrors. Billy groaned, but pulled up a characteristic smile anyway, stomping slightly on his way to the Camaro.

Jennifer watched as he placed her bag in the front seat pointedly, opening the back door for Tina with a winning and an unmovable smile that brokered no room for argument.

She didn’t know what had possessed his sudden turnaround, and she couldn’t deny she was more than a little confused and suspicious, the hurt and anger of the day before still lingering. But as Billy turned to look for her, eyes alighting with a vulnerable call, smile widening slightly at her step forward – she knew she couldn’t turn back.

 

* * *

 

It was only as they were pulling up to the school parking lot did the usually dormant puddle of nerve in her gut start to bubble. There were already eyes on them as they pulled up, but in typical fashion, Billy seemed almost excited. The prospect of attention seemed to cure him of any misgivings he may have had. Though perhaps it was just bravado.

He pulled into the parking lot, hitting the handbrake with a sharp jolt that made Jennifer jolt forwards slightly, and switched off the radio – leaving them in silence. No one moved.

“Ah- _hem_!” Billy cleared his throat suddenly, pointedly. “Bye, Tina.” He said dismissively.

Jennifer watched out of the corner of her eye as Tina gasped, mouth falling open in outrage. This was – perhaps – the first time Tina had come in second to Jennifer in anything. Even if it was just about getting out of a car. Finally, Tina seemed to regain some composure, and scooted over to the door. She paused though, hand on the door handle, and Jennifer’s heart skipped a beat in anticipation. “I don’t know what you’re both playing at,” Tina began, viciously, “But it’s not _right_. Billy – you shouldn’t be-”

“Be what?” Billy’s voice was louder than Tina’s and twice as sharp.

Tina shrunk into herself slightly, eyes going wide. “Doesn’t matter.” She muttered. Jennifer couldn’t bring herself to speak as her twin’s eyes strayed to her. Tina scowled.

“Get out of my car, Trish.” Billy just sounded tired now, bored of her – and Jennifer couldn’t help but wince. She knew _just_ how that felt. But it was enough to make Tina move, and she slammed the car door shut loudly, making Billy grit his teeth. “If she chipped the paint, she’ll be paying for it.” He growled.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Jennifer said softly. Billy turned to look at her, genuine curiosity in his blue eyes. Jennifer swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth.

“Why?” he asked, “What is she gonna do?”

Jennifer shook her head, “that’s not what I meant – I just, I don’t know. You didn’t have to make her feel… small.”

Billy tilted his head, considering. “But isn’t that what she does to you?”

“She’s not the only one…” Jennifer said quietly. Billy looked away, face hard. “Just because someone does something to you, doesn’t mean you should do it back. We’re not kids in a sandbox.” Billy just hummed noncommittally, eyes staring sightlessly forward. Jennifer sighed. “C’mon, we’d better get to class.”

 

* * *

 

Walking through the corridors with Billy Hargrove by her side was a surreal experience; kids moved out of her way, a few even smiled, but most of them just looked shocked. Jennifer felt sure her head was going to explode if she flushed anymore. So many eyes on her was overwhelming, and she only made it a few more paces of walking like a normal human, before she broke into a brisk jog, head down and shoulders up.

Of course, her newest shadow kept pace infuriatingly easily. “What’s wrong with you, princess?” Billy asked her, winking at a pair of freshmen as he leant against the locker next to hers.

“Just give me my bag!” Jennifer squeaked, mortified. Billy shrugged her bag off his shoulder, and handed it to her – and Jennifer swore she heard the two girls swoon. “Ugh! Could you be less…” she gestured at him wildly.

Billy turned back to her, eyebrow raised, expectant smirk in place. “Less… charming? Sexy? Drop-dead-gorgeous?” he asked loudly.

At the faint, _“I’ll say!”_ Jennifer groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly perfect?”

“Don’t start – or I’ll have to tell everyone that King Billy’s obsessed with Lord of the Rings!”

“You would- Yo, Tommy!”

Jennifer whirled as Billy’s voice shifted, eyes going over her head to probably her least favourite person in the whole world. It was an odd sickening rush of déjà vu as Tommy and a few other boys from the basketball team approached them. Habit had her shrinking forwards, trying to hide behind her locker door, making herself busy with her books. She watched in her peripheries as Billy shot her a hesitant look and prepared for the worst.

_Of course, it wouldn’t last. Billy always talked the talk-_

“You know McClaine.” Billy spoke over Tommy’s enthusiastic greeting. Jennifer’s eyes went wide, as Billy grasped her shoulder, spinning her slightly so that she was forced to be face-to-face with Tommy.

Something malicious shone for a moment in Tommy’s eyes. “Oh, I know Tina’s teeny twin! How’re you doing Jessica?”

“Jennifer.” Jenny corrected shortly. She knew that _he_ knew her name. That he was trying to get a reaction. It seemed nothing had changed.

“Yeah, right. Anyway.” Tommy looked over her, dismissing her. His eyes lingered a moment on Billy’s hand, that was still resting on her shoulder. It meant nothing, he’d likely forgotten it was there, but Jennifer drew strength from it anyway, like a symbol that she was still there. “We still on for lunch – scrimmage?” he sounded so puppy-enthusiastic, that Jennifer’s heart went out to him.

“Nah – promised McClaine I’d eat with her.” the hand on her shoulder squeezed, just once, barely any pressure – but Jennifer looked up at him anyway. He wasn’t looking at her, but his eyes were almost challenging, as they bore into Tommy’s.

Unfortunately, Tommy’s eyes developed a wicked sort of understanding – and he sniggered, nudging the boy closest to him, who laughed behind his hand – the pair of them eyeing Jennifer suggestively. She felt herself blush again. “Oh! I _see_ … let me know how it is, man!” he reached out to clap hands with Billy, waggling his eyebrows with insinuation. “Little McClaine’s a tough nut to crack, bro – respect!”

Jennifer wanted to gag at the leering looks the pack of boys shot her in-between whispers and laughter. It made her feel… dirty. Billy rolled his eyes. “Just get out of here, losers.” They went, as commanded, leaving the two of them relatively alone again.

Jennifer rounded on Billy, shaking his hand off her shoulder. “You know they think we’re…” she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Fucking?” Billy supplied, eyes dancing with mirth. “Who cares?”

“ _I_ care! I care – I don’t want…” she didn’t want to badmouth the other girls Billy had been with but, they _did_ have certain reputations, and whether they deserved them or not – she didn’t want to include herself in that social grouping. Especially not when it felt so uncomfortable.Especially with _him_. “I don’t want people to think that.” She said firmly.

Billy’s eyebrows had risen, and he looked surprised. “You-you don’t?” he asked finally.

Jennifer sighed, feeling a little sad for him, but mostly irritated. “Of course not, you dolt – I thought I had made that very clear!”

Billy now had the gall to look affronted. “So, you don’t think I’m hot.” He crossed his arms – and Jennifer almost laughed. Was he…pouting? “You _don’t?!”_ he was definitely pouting, and she watched him take a look at himself in her small mirror affixed to her locker door. Jennifer snorted, unable to help herself, and shut her locker with a shake of her head, cradling her books to her chest. Billy caught up to her quickly. “Wait, be honest… you don’t want to sleep with me? Do you even think I’m attractive?” he was almost whining, and Jennifer grinned, as they approached her classroom. He was blinking his big, blue eyes at her soulfully.

“Oh please, you don’t need me to inflate your ego.” She told him primly, turning on her heel, and leaving him standing in the doorway.

“Is that a yes? Is that a _no?”_ he called after her, as she took her seat. The bell rang, and she waved at him. “Jenny!”

“Mr. Hargrove! Don’t you have class to get to?” her English teacher snapped at him, and the sudden composure change was almost startling.

“Of course, miss.” He gave her teacher a wink that made Jennifer sigh in exasperation. “Just dropping off Jennifer.” He gave her one last sorrowful look before bolting, leaving her classmates giggling and whispering.

Jennifer just groaned, put her head to her desk, and began to mourn the loss of her sanity.


	14. Blue, Yellow, Green

“Did you want to come to dinner?”

He had no idea why he’d said it.

He wished he could take it back the instant she looked up at him with those big confused eyes. She had paint on her face, _again_ , blue and yellow splattered on her cheek.

Jennifer had dragged him into the art rooms at lunch, claiming it was far too cold to sit outside, and though he could think of _nothing_ worse than sitting idle for an hour, he’d followed. _Friendship meant sacrifice._ He had thought mournfully, looking out at the – admittedly cold – clear day outside.

Friendship.

Maybe that had been on his mind when he’d asked her, maybe he’d been so bored staring at her landscape painting that he’d glitched, maybe it was just an excuse to keep his father’s attention off him for one meal.

Things had been… different.

He still didn’t remember much from the night Max had stolen his car, but he did remember the fear and respect that had warred in him as she threatened him. Having Jenny did help too – he could freely admit that – she was an easy distraction. Using Max as a distraction, well – he didn’t do that anymore. At least, not in the way he used to.

Max too, seemed different. It was almost like they’d reached a truce between them. It was more like how it had been back when they’d first met, back in California, when Max had followed him everywhere like an eager puppy, when Billy had pretended to be annoyed by her flattering adoration. Max had loved the beach almost as much as he had. Sometimes, he could still remember her there – she used to have short hair, and it would get so curly with sea-salt that she used to cry brushing it out. His dad had made her grow it out. He knew it bothered her, got in her face when she ran, when she played, when she cried. Not that she did much crying anymore.  

“What’s the occasion?” Jenny asked him, a small smile growing on her face. He frowned at her.

“You’ve got paint on you.” He told her instead of answering. She attempted to wipe it off impatiently, beaming at him. He sighed. She’d completely missed. Jennifer wiggled her paintbrush at him threateningly, taking a step towards him.

“C’mon Billyyyy!” she sang, “Tell me what’s going on?”

He narrowed his eyes at her playful look. “Don’t you dare-” she swiped at him, managing to catch his neck. The paint was cool, bristles stiff – and he flinched. “Hey! Alright! There’s no _occasion!_ Just thought you’d wanna have dinner!” she lowered the brush, seemingly mollified. “What if I was allergic to paint?” he groaned.

“Aw, Billy – that’s so _cute_!” she cooed at him, ignoring his complaint. “Of course, I’d love to have dinner with you and your family!”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on.” He grumbled, shoving lightly past her to the sinks. She hummed in response, turning back to her canvas. It was only as he rubbed the paint off with a wet paper towel did he realise exactly what it meant.

Having Jennifer in his space was new.

He was no stranger to her world; the four walls of her bedroom, the peaceful sunflower field, the cool art rooms and the scent of acrylics, her gold-drenched backyard. His world was a lot smaller. It was his bed surrounded in fading posters, only after night had fallen and the house was asleep, it was his car on the open road, and the faraway ocean of his childhood.

He hadn’t shared them with anyone before – it was hard enough to keep them sacred for himself, safe from his step-family’s curiosity and his father’s red-hot scorching destruction. He’d never say so aloud, but he thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , Jennifer could share it too. She could share it and not abuse it.

“If you’re still hungry, there’s a sandwich for you in my bag.” Jennifer told him, breaking the silence without lifting her eyes from her work. He grinned, and hurried back over.

 

* * *

 

It’d been a hassle getting rid of her sister.

Tina had looked about ready to explode, and Jennifer wasn’t faring any better, cheeks heating in her frustration.

Billy had gladly stepped in. “Listen, Tina – give it a break. Go catch a ride with your friends or something.” It was second nature now to put a hand on Jennifer’s shoulder – she was just the right height for an arm rest, and it made her less likely to shoot him outraged looks for some reason. Her hair tickled the back of his palm and he had to resist the urge to tug at one of her curls.

Tina gaped at the pair of them. “What the _fuck_? I can’t believe I’m getting _stranded_ at school! UGH!” she huffed, actually stamping her foot. Billy hid his grin. She turned furious eyes onto him. “Billy – aren’t we supposed to be friends?”

He smirked at her, all pretty sharp edge. “Uh, no. Bye, Tina.” She looked like she’d been slapped. Jenny sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry, Tina – I would have given you more notice if I could.” Yup, there was the look. He grinned at her, unapologetic. Why Jenny felt the need to constantly apologize and appease her bitch of a sister – he had no idea. Tina was irritating at the best of times, demanding and rude, and just because she was hot – and she was, he wasn’t fucking blind – thought she deserved it all.

“Whatever. Don’t think I won’t tell mom.” Tina spat furiously, turning on her heel and stalking off.

Jennifer turned to look up at him, and he raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me I was being too rude, because she was too.” He’d obviously beat her to it, as she snapped her mouth shut with a faint huff. He gave into the impulse and pulled at her loose strand of hair. “Come on.” He told her, almost fondly. She narrowed her eyes at him, but followed dutifully.

She opened the window when she got in, but he’d already adjusted the volume of the stereo and when she went to turn it down and found it done, she gave him a happy little smile. It made his stomach flip uncomfortably – he must have been adjusting to her easy affection. He turned away from her in favour of gunning the engine loud enough to startle a group of freshmen passing behind the car.

One of them dropped his bag in fright, and he exhaled loudly, tapping his fingers against the wheel impatiently. He would have reversed suddenly too, just to make them jump again, but Jennifer was in the car and the one time he’d done it, she’d been winded by the seatbelt she insisted on wearing. Instead, he slowly backed out, flipping them the finger for good measure and ignoring Jennifer’s exasperated sigh.

“We’ve got to get Max.” he said, remembering as he spoke. He shot her a questioning look. Part of him would have been happy for an excuse not to stop by the middle school.

Jennifer, of course, was nodding with a smile. “I’d love to meet your step-sister!” she said brightly. He rolled his eyes.

“You won’t be saying that after you meet her.” he grumbled, switching lanes.

Jennifer made a disbelieving sound. “And why is that? I refuse to believe she’s the terror you pretend she is.”

“Have you forgotten she drugged me and left me to _die_!” he asked, shooting her one of her own patented outraged looks.

“Well…” she looked uncomfortable. “She did, you know, have her reasons.”

Billy felt a surge of anger. “Whatever. She’s an asshole.” He muttered.

He felt her hand tug lightly at his earring – _her_ earring, the sunflower he kept forgetting to return – fingers brushing through his curls for a brief second. Despite himself, he looked at her, anger fading at her soft smile. “So were you, remember?” She said quietly.

He turned his eyes back to the road. “Yeah.” He admitted.

Max’s eyes were already narrowed in suspicion the second she laid eyes on the Camaro, on Jenny. It was with a brief flare of panic that he realised Max would only think one thing; the one thing Jenny had been adamant against.

“Who’s she?” Max asked, tone hard as she swung herself into the backseat. Her sharp blue eyes went straight to him, as if Jenny wasn’t there. It rankled him.

“My _friend_ , asshole – so start acting nice, or you’re walking home.” He spat, staring her down.

“You don’t have any friends.” Max responded, raising an eyebrow. God, she’d grown bold. Before he respond, remind her who was in charge Jennifer – infinitely and impossibly patient, Jennifer – leant around her seat.

“He’s hard to get along with, I know, but I’d like to think its worth the effort.” She said easily, “My name is Jennifer – you must be the infamous Max.”

Max just stared at her. Billy was torn between a warm feeling and irritation. “Max!” he snapped, after another moment of silence. Jennifer seemed, characteristically undeterred by his stepsister’s rudeness. It hit with him with a weird sense of reflection, just how easily she’d let his own asshole behaviours slide. He looked at her, with an odd feeling of seeing her patient smile for the first time. “Jenny’s coming to dinner.” He said, a little less tensely.

“If that’s okay with you?” Jenny asked Max, who dropped her scowl for a look of surprise.

“Okay… with me?” she repeated dumbly. “It’s not my decision.”

Jenny tilted her head with a soft considering look. “It’s your house, too. You’re allowed to not want me there.”

Max was quiet again, and looked at Billy, shooting him a questioning look. He just shrugged, turning around. It was no use putting his foot down, not with Jenny – who was more stubborn than she would ever admit.

“Yeah, that’s…that’s okay.” Max said finally, and he caught the edge of Jennifer’s brilliant smile at Max as she turned back around. He switched the radio back on, to the god-awful pop channel, scowling at it.

Jennifer joined in the crooning ballad at the chorus, voice quiet but sweet, and he loosened his grip on the wheel slightly. One hurdle jumped. One to go.

 

* * *

 

“Susan, this is Jennifer – Jennifer this is Susan. We’re going to be in my room.” Billy’s hands on Jennifer’s shoulders were a necessity now, as he attempted to steer her past his step-mother who was blinking at them in surprise.

Jennifer broke out of his lax grip easily, and stepped towards Susan with her hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hargrove, sorry we didn’t call ahead. I hope it’s not a problem.”

Susan took Jennifer’s hand, eyes darting to Billy, who didn’t drop his hard stare. “Of course not! It’s lovely to meet one of Billy’s friends… he never brings anyone home.” Her voice wobbled awkwardly, and Billy moved forward, ready to end the interaction. _A mistake_ …

Jennifer just smiled, and squeezed Susan’s hand once before stepping back. He could feel her faint flinch as she collided with his chest, and he steadied her automatically. “Did you need any help with dinner? I’m sure throwing an extra mouth into the mix doesn’t help.”

Susan looked at him again, and he raised an eyebrow. She turned a smile onto Jennifer. It had been a while since Billy had seen her smile like that; all welcoming and polite. The Hargrove House didn’t tend to have visitors often, and when his father’s colleagues were around, he made himself as scarce as possible. “Don’t be silly, dear, you – uh – go and have fun.” It was clear she had no idea how to deal with the situation. Fake, fake, fake. Everything felt so stilted and uncomfortable, and he was so _sick_ of Jennifer’s polite little smile, and Susan’s dumb cow eyes-

Billy couldn’t be bothered to watch her flounder any more, and forcibly removed Jennifer from the room, propelling them down the hall and into his room. He slammed the door behind them. “What was that?” he asked her sharply.

Jennifer looked confused, blinking her stupid gold-green eyes at him. “What was what?” she asked.

“Sucking up to Susan.” He spat, turning away from her, to shrug his jacket off and throw it viciously in the direction of his dresser.

“Sucking- It’s called being polite, Billy!” She said, hands flying to her hips. “What’s wrong with being polite?”

“Oh, so you call being fake, polite?” He wasn’t quite sure why the pit in his gut was beginning to bubble with what _felt_ like anger – though the way his palms were sweating didn’t usually happen, and the way his room felt suddenly too small for the both of them wasn’t normal either.

“Hey – I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to make a good impression…” Jennifer sounded almost worried, and he resented the way she crept towards him, hands outstretched. “I can go if you want.”

Billy shook his head, pit yawning at the sudden thought of his father coming home to an extra place set with no extra guest, at the confusion that would occur, and the consequential anger that would follow. His father didn’t like an upset of the tightly run household. It was only now that he realised what a bad idea it had been to bring her at all. What a bad idea it was to disturb the order of things. His head hurt, and he fumbled for a seat at his dresser. “No – you can’t go now.” He muttered, running his hands over the things on the dresser, making sure they were in order.

“Okay.” Jennifer said softly. “What do you want me to do, Billy?”

It was a little hard to draw the breath he wanted, but he turned to look at her, sucking in a subtle gulp of air. He scowled accusingly. “Why’re you talking like that?”

Jennifer sighed. “Sorry. I’m sorry – I just thought – never mind.” She smiled at him, and turned to face his wall. “Nice room! I like the posters – they make it very personal.” She said conversationally. He wanted to call her out on the subject change, but as she ran her fingers lightly over his Scorpion’s poster – the one he’d bought signed – he suddenly couldn’t find the energy to do so. “I don’t think I know this band…”

“Yeah – you wouldn’t. Little too intense for you, princess.” He mustered an eyeroll, standing and walking to his record player, rifling through his tapes automatically. He slid the tape in and hit play, turning to look at her again and finding her already watching him.

Something different to the uneasy pit stirred in his stomach – and he swallowed, pulling on one of his best easy smiles.

_Neil would be home soon, and the game would begin._


	15. Okay/Old Wounds

At 7:16, three things happened at once.

From the front of the house, the sound of the front door slamming echoed down the hall, a clatter sounded from the kitchen, and Billy stiffened in place, mid-way through his sentence.

Jennifer looked over at him from where she was standing in front of his closet, where moments before, she’d been going through his record collection, and he’d been going over the merits of having a cassette player.

“Ne- my dad’s home.” He said finally. “Dinner will be ready now too.”

Jennifer almost, _almost_ commented on his stilted voice, and the nervous way he got up and straightened his bed, his clothes. Something had felt off since she had gotten here, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her, or something else. She didn’t like the downcast of Billy’s eyes, and she _definitely_ hadn’t liked his little freak out earlier. It had been just like the time she’d dropped him home, he’d had the same heavy breathing and panicked eyes. But he hadn’t told her to go.

So, she’d stay.

“Okay.” She said, giving him her brightest smile. He just nodded, and opened the door for her, closing it behind them, and heading wordlessly back into the dining room.

As Billy had said, dinner was ready on the table, the plates steaming gently, Susan already sitting to the left of the head of the table. Billy took a seat opposite his step-mother, and patted the chair next to him. “Your throne, princess.” He said, and despite his mocking tone, she was privately relieved. Max appeared silently from the hall, and scrambled up, wrinkling her nose at her plate.

“ _Susan? Where’s the beer?”_

The booming voice from the kitchen was unfamiliar, but she could place the deep tone. This had to have been Neil Hargrove.

Susan stood up hastily. “Oh, in the back, honey – keeps it cooler-” before she could enter the kitchen, Neil had appeared in the doorway, a can of Coors in his grip, and a face like thunder.

“Sit down.” He told Susan dismissively, stepping around her to throw himself down at the head of the table with a loud groan. He cracked the can open, and began to gulp it down. It was only after he placed it back onto the table did he seem to realise that there was an extra face at the table. “Who’s this?” he asked, one eyebrow raising.

It was very clear where Billy had gotten his size from; Neil was just as broad, and only a little taller – and they had the same strong jaw. There, the similarities ended. Where Billy was almost beautiful with artful features, Neil had deep set murky eyes, permanent frown lines, and a small angry mouth. Jennifer, for a moment, wondered what Billy’s obviously gorgeous mother could have seen in him.

“She’s Billy’s friend. Jennifer.” Susan supplied with a tight smile.

Neil turned to look hard at Billy. “A _friend?_ ” he asked, and yet Jennifer got the feeling he was asking something else.

Billy dragged his eyes from his potatoes, and met his father’s gaze, jaw set. “She’s my best friend.”

Jennifer ducked her head for a moment to hide her grin as Neil grunted. She smiled at the man who was looking at her like she was some kind of mildly disgusting insect. “Thank you for having me at your lovely home, Mr. Hargrove. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She said sweetly, and watched as his face went through a few shades of red.

“Well.” He said finally, and looked at Susan again. “What’s for dinner?”

Beside her, she watched as Billy visibly relaxed, sagging with a silent breath. Slowly, under the noise of Neil complaining about his day, she reached out and put a hand on Billy’s leg. He jumped, and turned to look at her with wide eyes. She grinned at him. He watched her for a moment, before he rolled his eyes and turned away.

A moment later, she felt his hand cover hers, but when she looked at him, he was staring determinedly ahead.

It was a little difficult to eat one handed, but the meatloaf was soft, and she mixed her peas into the mash. She would manage. The dinner conversation was very limited, and she knew she wasn’t imagining the tense atmosphere. So, Jennifer cleared her throat quietly, and turned a smile onto Max. “Max, you’re in eighth grade, right?”

Max looked a little surprised at being addressed, but nodded. “Uh, yeah.”

Jennifer felt Billy squeeze her hand, but she ignored him. “You’ve got Mr. Clarke, right? Isn’t he the funniest guy?”

Max snorted, apparently unable to help herself. “A real nerd, you mean?”

“Maxine!” Susan hissed, giving Neil a nervous look.

Max shrugged. “It’s true. Not a _bad_ thing.”

Jennifer grinned. “He definitely knows his stuff. I almost _liked_ science when he taught it.”

“I like science.” Max volunteered quietly, giving her mother a wary look. Susan sighed, and set her fork down delicately.

Jennifer wanted to frown at the exchange. She knew _exactly_ what it felt like to have people look down on her because of her interests. “Science is awesome!” she said, “I wish I had the brain for it.” She said, a little wistfully and truthfully.

“Your brain’s in the clouds, princess.” Billy said, before ducking his head down, and dropping his smirk.

_What was going on?_

She squeezed his hand absently, trying to regain the atmosphere. “I know… I’m an artist, or at least, I want to be.”

Max perked up a little. “You draw?”

“And paint, and sculpt sometimes.” Jennifer said, with a wry grin, “But I’m not very good with clay. I fingerpaint for fun, sometimes. You should try it – it feels weirdly good.”

Max looked a little grossed out, and a little intrigued. “I bet it feels like slime. We made some the-”

“And you think you’ll make something of it?” Neil cut across her, suddenly and loudly. Jennifer had to resist the urge to twitch. She’d almost managed to forget he was there, but no, that heavy disapproving stare of his back upon her. His face was openly contemptuous.

She bit at her lip, trying to think of a response.

He was… _rude_.

Rude, and loud, and obnoxious – and honestly, more than a little like Billy had been when they’d first met, and she had the odd feeling of something coming together. If this was how he was with a guest; however _little_ he apparently thought of her as a guest, then she hated to think how he was when it was just them. The way they all seemed to tiptoe on eggshells seemed directly corresponsive to the way Neil stomped around without care.

What she really wanted to do was reprimand him like she could with Billy, but she also had the distinct sense it wasn’t a good idea. So, instead, she turned her most blinding smile on him – she tried to mimic her sister’s faint coquettishness, Charlotte’s unabashed confidence, and Billy’s impossible charm – and she straightened a little under his frown. “I think I’ll make something of it – I think I’ll make myself happy, Mr. Hargrove. That’s what’s important to me. Happiness.”

His jaw worked, but she _knew_ he couldn’t take offense to it; she’d spoken _oh, so sweetly,_ and all he could do was stew.

Billy’s hand was a vice grip around her own, and she managed to stroke her thumb once, soothingly across the inside of his wrist. He loosened his tight hold slightly, and the rest of the dinner passed in silence. When he had finished, Neil stood with an absent mumble of thanks, and left the room. Susan stood, and began to collect the plates – prompting Jennifer to stand as well. “Would you like any help?” she asked, making Susan give her a startled look, as if she’d forgotten she was there.

“Oh! No, sweetie, I can manage.” She scooped the rest of the dishes towards herself, ducking her head and busying herself. Jennifer blinked.

“C’mon.” Billy’s low voice made her flinch, but she let him take her hand again, and lead her from the dining room.

Back in his room, it seemed somehow more quiet, despite the silence from the rest of the house. He let her go, and moved over to his tape-player, turning the volume down low and pressing play. His shoulders were tense, and she stayed where she was, forcing him to face her when he turned back to his bed. “What?” he snapped, when he met her gaze.

“Are you okay?” She asked. “Dinner was…”

He laughed, short and hard and devoid of humour. “Trust me, princess, that was a good day.” He shut his mouth with an audible click after he spoke, face twisting in a way that told her he thought he’d said too much.

“What do you mean?” She prodded him gently. He didn’t respond, and took a seat at the head of his bed. “Billy?”

“What?” he asked again, trying, and failing, to give her an angry look.

Jennifer crossed the few feet to his bed, and sat atop his covers so that she was next to him. “Will you talk to me?” she asked him gently.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He said shortly, keeping his eyes on the wall.

She poked his bicep, “Not even with your _best_ friend?” she asked teasingly. But he didn’t bite – and it only made the pit of worry in her stomach grow. “Billy…” His jaw was working, his fists tightly closed at his sides. She sighed. “Did you wanna stay over tonight?”

After a long moment, he nodded.

Something eased a little.

She didn’t know what she should do, all she knew is that she wanted _her_ Billy back, and the longer they were here, the further away he seemed to go. The thought of keeping an eye on him, keeping him safe from whatever was making him so strange, made _her_ feel a little better – which was weird within itself.

Jennifer tugged lightly on her sunflower earring in his ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t so difficult to sneak Billy in; her parents were out, and Tina was nowhere to be found, which she was privately relieved about. She didn’t know if she could handle a pouty and spiteful Tina just then.

She kicked the door shut behind them, turning to Billy who was already shrugging off his jacket. “You hungry? I could-”

“We literally just had dinner.” He reminded her with a funny little smile. “All those paint fumes must be killing your braincells.”

“R-right, of course.” She laughed a little nervously. “Um, I’ll just-”

“I’m fine.” Billy interrupted her again. She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him, and he ignored her, turning away to jog up the stairs. “I’m having a shower!” She watched him go, pausing for a moment in the kitchen. Jennifer didn’t envy his admirable mask. All it did was make her pity him for needing it. She just wanted him know that he didn’t have to pretend. Not with her. Never with her.

She had already made herself comfortable by the time she heard the water stop running, flicking through the pages of an old copy of The Turn of the Screw. It creeped her out; she’d never been any good with horror films or ghost stories, and she sometimes dreaded Halloween, but it was a macabre interest she took, unable to stop freaking herself out.

When the door opened, she slowly marked her page. “Would you come see a Nightmare on Elm Street, I wanted to go, but I can’t go alone – oh.” Jennifer blinked, taking in the sight of Billy in her doorway. His hair was still soaking, and he had on the same old sweatpants she’d given – and nothing else. For a moment, she was caught up on the drops of water still beading on his chest, the golden planes of his skin, feeling heat pinken her cheeks, and her mouth dry – before she realised he still hadn’t reacted, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t teased. She hurriedly ripped her eyes off of his naked torso, feeling embarrassed.

He was seemed to be waiting for something, and there was a hesitance to his face that was at odds to his usual confidence.

Now, looking at him, _properly_ looking at him – she saw the marring on his perfect skin. Bruises, old, and in various stages of healing – none so obvious to be visible unless one happened to be looking for them. There was a particularly large one over his left ribs, and she imagined it had once been incredibly painful, brilliant in its purples and greens. Now, it was an old dull yellow, nearly gone. Jennifer had an old flash of memory, from what felt like a lifetime ago. The way he had looked under the sunset sky, on her lawn, hiding another old wound from her – one he had been ashamed of, unlike the ones she had tended to.

“Billy-” She began, but he shook his head, and shut the door behind himself, hiding his face for a moment.

When he turned back to her, he looked equal parts uncomfortable and serious. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He repeated his line from earlier, but he didn’t look angry now, just nervous.

Jennifer, with a nauseating, ice-cold bolt of understanding that made her stomach drop – realised what he was showing her, what he was telling her; what he’d been telling her all this time. It was obvious now, really, the way he hadn’t wanted to leave, the way he retreated to her, his anxious fits, his rejection of most touch, his tense silences… his angry, _angry_ father.

She swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat, and set her book down. Jennifer slid off her bed, and very slowly, moved towards him. He just watched her approach, sucking in a faint breath. “Jenny, there’s _nothing_ to talk about, do you understand?” his voice was hard, but hollow.

Jennifer shook her head. “Why haven’t you said anyth-”

“ _I can’t. I just can’t._ ” His hiss was like a wounded animal’s, and he recoiled from her, looking suddenly terrified. “You can’t _say_ anything. Promise me, you have to promise me. He’ll _kill me-_ ”

“Okay!” Jennifer cried, hating the way he was shaking. “Okay, I promise, okay… just – _please_ – I promise I won’t…” He stilled as she got closer again, and she could see herself reflected in his blown pupils. His breathing was quiet, but she could see how fast his shoulders were heaving, and reached for him instinctively, catching him on either sides of his shoulders, and holding fast. Slow enough, so that he could move away if he wanted, she moved her hands up again, sliding over his neck before she anchored herself to him, wrapping him in a hug.

She held him tightly, willing him to calm down, to stop shaking. After a moment, to her amazement, she felt his own arms come up around her – and she wheezed out a surprised breath at his sudden crushing embrace around her waist. He felt warm and solid against her; and yet so small, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

_He was crying._

Her eyes went wide at the realisation, and her own eyes burned in sympathy. Jennifer ran her fingers through his curls at the nape of his neck and just held him. “It’s okay.” She whispered. “It’s okay.” Billy sniffled, and she blinked rapidly, willing away her own tears. Jennifer didn’t know how long they stood there, stock still and wrapped in each other, but it didn’t matter. He seemed to have calmed down, and that was all that mattered, his shuddering reduced to the occasional hiccupping breath, and after another minute, nothing at all. She kept holding him.

He moved first, disentangling himself and turning away from her, rubbing his hands childishly over his eyes and nose. He coughed uncomfortably. “This never happened.” He said, voice scratchy.

Jennifer stood her ground, watching him as he moved to her window, opening it despite the winter air that immediately forced its way inside. He stooped, fishing a cigarette out of his jacket and lighting up. He kept his back to her as he smoked his way quickly through it. She could see goose bumps on his skin. “You’re allowed to cry.”

He laughed. “No, I’m not, princess. Not really. Not where anyone can see me.” Her heart hurt for him, at the weight of everything put upon him, at this new horrifying revelation.

“You’re allowed to cry in front of me, if you want. If you need.” She amended her statement.

He turned on her, eyes furious, but still red and watery. He looked so young. “You don’t know the first thing about what I want or need, _princess_. Fuck off out of my business.” He whipped around again. She let him be, moving back to her bed, and pulling the covers over herself. After another beat of silence, he spoke again, softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Jennifer smiled a little. “I know.”

He sighed, blowing out smoke with the gesture. “You do know.” He said simply, fondly accusatorily. “Chuck me a pillow, I’m beat.” He flicked his butt out, and drew the window closed again.

Jennifer bit her lip, eyeing the lonely figure he cut against the dark landscape outside. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” She said quietly.

Billy eyed her. “You sure, princess?”

She rolled her eyes, and wriggled over to the wall, lifting the blanket. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

He nodded, switching off her lamp, but leaving her curtains open – the moonlight dappling the floor through the branches of her tree outside. He slid in after her, and she had a brief moment of realisation that she had just fated herself to a night next to a very large, very shirtless boy. Her mild discomfort was only tempered when he rolled over to face her. It was just Billy. In the dim light, she couldn’t see more than the glint of his eyes, and the faint fullness of his lips. “I meant it.” She told him quietly, bringing up her hands to ball under her chin.

“What?” he asked her, just as softly. She snuggled down, closing her eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”

He didn’t respond, but after a second, she felt the brief touch of his fingers on her cheek.

_It’ll be okay._


	16. Sweater Weather

The Christmas season came quickly, bringing snow and chill to the McClaine house.

It also brought an excessive amount of eggnog, nonstop carols, a multitude of Christmas decorations, and one Billy Hargrove.

Jennifer eyed him from where he sat awkwardly on their couch, nursing a mug of eggnog, and staring wide-eyed at the sheer amount of _stuff_ decorating their house. There was still more than a week to go before Christmas day, but it had never stopped their mother before. Billy hadn’t come over since the decorations had gone up, and Jennifer had found her own private amusement in watching Billy struggle not to react to it all as their mother babbled on about something.

She herself had long since gotten over any embarrassment related to the excessive celebrations, and was happily nursing a hot chocolate, decked proudly in one of her multitude of Christmas sweaters. The doorbell rang, and her mother straightened from her slight lean towards Billy’s form.

“Oh! My goodness, they’re early!” She trilled, and hurried towards the front door.

“Mom always hosts Christmas drinks on Saturdays.” Jennifer said sagely, as they listened to the squeals of her mother and whichever housewife and husband had just been invited inside. Billy nodded faintly, eyes going to a very naked and fat Christmas cherub, who was smiling smugly beside him on the side table. He gave her a look, and she giggled. “Welcome to the McClaine Christmas experience, Billy.”

“Do I have to wear a sweater?” he asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at her red, white and green monstrosity.

Jennifer perked up. “That is a _brilliant_ idea! Wait here.” She made for the stairs, but Billy was faster, and he had set down his mug and leapt at her before she had even cleared the couch.

“No! Don’t you dare!” he growled, lifting her from where he had her caught around the waist and falling back into the couch with her clutched snugly to his chest. Jennifer kicked out in his grip, laughing.

“C’mon, Billy! It’ll be cute – and if you come pick it out, you won’t have to deal with more drooling mothers!” she sang.

Billy released her instantly, making her laugh again. “Deal.” He rolled her off of him, but took her hand to pull her up. As they climbed the stairs, the first guests made their way into the sitting room, and he developed a sleazy look. “ _Some_ mothers are okay, though. I might just duck in and check-”

This time Jennifer grabbed him with loud sigh, tugging at his shirt impatiently. “Stop being such a horndog and come participate in wholesome Christmas activities!” she gave him a sorrowful look.

“Whatever you want, princess.” Billy said easily, and let her pull him up the stairs – but not without a quick glance through the fake pine adorned balustrades.

As they crested the landing, her parents’ bedroom door opened and her father stepped out, looking characteristically miserable about having to go host the Christmas drinks. It was a long suffering look, and Jennifer gave him a pitying smile. “Good luck, Dad.”

Billy had stiffened slightly beside her, whatever cheer had been on his face dying a quick uncomfortable death, and Jennifer felt a surge of protectiveness rise in her. Her father made a _harrumph_ in response to her cheer, and nodded at the pair of them. “Nice to see you again, Billy.”

Jennifer grinned at her father. Billy coughed. “Oh – thanks for having me, Mr. McClaine.”

Her father waved a hand dismissively. “Call me John, son. You two here for the dinner?” he asked, a little hopefully. Jennifer knew her quiet father suffered, and the few times she’d been expected at the dinner and drinks, he’d taken refuge down her end of the table.

Billy was still looking a little floored, so Jennifer answered for them. “No – we have to go pick up Billy’s step-sister from her dance. Sorry, dad, you’re on your own.”

John set his shoulders. “Well. Have a good night then.”

“Oh, Dad! We’re raiding your sweater selection.” Jennifer called after him, and her dad threw up a lazy thumbs up as he stomped down the stairs. “Cool.” She said, and started tugging Billy along again.

Billy was still a little quiet, but as she displayed her top pick – an ugly and detailed depiction of Rudolf – he came to life with a disgusted look. “I’d rather die.” He told her, folding his arms as he rested slightly against her parents’ set of drawers. She waggled the next one. “Nope.”

“Did you want to have dinner? You and Max can both eat here if you wanted.” She said instead of fighting for the adorable elves depicted on the green fabric. “We can just sneak in and grab the leftovers. They’ll be too tipsy to notice.”

Billy shrugged. “If you really want.” _Yes._ That meant, in Billy-language. She was getting quite good at speaking it. “I have to get Max home at some point.”

Jennifer nodded. “Sure. You gonna crash at mine tonight?”

“So needy, princess.” When paired with a patented eyeroll; _please and thank you._ She grinned to herself. “That one isn’t…horrible.” Billy jabbed at the sweater.

“Yeah?” She asked excitedly, examining the red and white pattern. It was simple; just snowflakes and a big snowman in the middle, but there was _tinselling_ around the hems. “This was such a good idea.”

Billy sighed sadly, and snatched the sweater from her, stripping his plain black thermal off. Jennifer forced herself not to look at his perfect torso, or the imperfect scrape across his bicep. He tugged on the sweater roughly. “Tell me I’m still sexy.” He said, with a note of pleading, looking down at himself.

“Hmmm…” Jennifer hummed, putting a hand over her mouth as if in thought – hiding her grin. Billy was a bit taller than her father, and broader; so, the sweater was a little short in the sleeves, too tight in the arms and shoulders, and far too loose at the waist. Jennifer thought he looked _adorable_. “Oh… yes, very…um, very _sexy_.” She tried to convince him.

Billy whined, hurrying to the bathroom, and examining himself in the reflection. “This is humiliating.” He muttered, tugging at the sleeves and trying to cover his wrists. Jennifer bounced over to him, and wrapped her arms playfully around him, and ignoring his momentary jolt of surprise.

“I think you look very handsome.” She told him, stepping on her tip-toes to look over his shoulder and meet his gaze in the mirror. “Very holiday appropriate.”

Billy sighed, his blue eyes softening a little, even as he scowled. “This is your Christmas present.” He told her. “Consider this a Christmas miracle.”

Jennifer grinned. “Can I take a photo, to treasure this moment forever?”

“NO!” he yelped, and Jennifer laughed, burying her grin in his back for a moment before she let him go. He turned after her, with a mildly threatening look on his face. “If I see a camera tonight, I’ll break it.”

“Aww… you’re no fun.” Jennifer pouted, moving to close the chest of drawers and turn off the light. Billy followed her, keeping his glare. “We should probably get going if we want to get Max on time. Do we need to drop off her date, too?”

Billy looked a little uncomfortable as she spoke, and Jennifer knew that Max had taken Lucas Sinclair to the dance. It had taken another long talk to work through, but Billy hadn’t made any derogatory statements, and honestly at this point, Jennifer wondered if his discomfort was just due to the fact that his little step-sister was dating at all. It had been the two of them against his father for a long time. Billy was getting to the stage where he was getting tired of going against Max too.

Jennifer couldn’t hide how disturbed she was about the way Billy used to take his anger out on Max. Max may have been a little rough around the edges, but she was cool. Funny and biting, and unapologetic in the best kind of way. Jennifer had hardly recognized the girl she had run into outside of the middle school the other week – she was so different to the quiet girl that had sat at her step-father’s table however many weeks ago.

“No, he’ll get his own way home.” Billy said, hovering behind her as she ducked into her room to turn on her light. She almost bumped into him trying to leave, but he didn’t seem to notice. She smiled to herself.

Something had changed between them, since the night she’d gone to dinner. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, if it was her, or wholly him – but she thought, tentatively, that he seemed… comfortable with her. In a way he hadn’t before. It filled her with a warm pleasure, because she hadn’t had a best friend before. In fact – she hadn’t really ever had a _friend_ at all.

He already had the heater running on full blast when she got into the car, and had angled all the vents towards her. “Thanks.” She said, and he looked at her questioningly. She gestured to the heater and he shrugged.

“Whatever. Didn’t want to hear you complain about your hands falling off.” She laughed, and he grunted unintelligibly, switching stations as an announcer declared the next hour to be holiday carols. She switched it back, in time to hear the opening notes of jingle bells, and he groaned, but made no further complaint as she smiled out the window and sung softly along.

It was nearly Christmas, and she’d never been so happy.

* * *

“Hey, Jenny.” Max greeted her as she barrelled her way into the car. She shook her hair out, small clumps of snow falling to the floor, and Billy sighed loudly. “And hi, Billy.” She said a little reluctantly.

Jennifer turned to grin at her. “You look great.”

Max smiled a little smugly. “Lucas thought so too.” She accepted Jennifer’s high-five happily, and then sat back. “Are we going home?”

“ _You’re_ going home.” Billy said, cutting off a mom trying to back out of her parking spot with a little grin.

Max pouted, and met Jennifer’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. Jennifer reached over to flick at Billy’s arm. “Max, you could have dinner with us if you want?”

Max suddenly beamed, and Jennifer almost laughed at how easily she was sucked in by the charms of both step-siblings. “I would love that. You’re the best.” She said pointedly, glaring at Billy’s head.

“Yeah, yeah.” Billy grumbled, and Jennifer noted he’d already taken the turn to her house. _Softie._ “But you’re covering for me when you get in.”

“Obviously.” Max rolled her eyes. “I doubt he’ll notice anyway.”

It was meant to be reassuring, and maybe it was in some way, but Billy still twitched imperceptibly, and when Max had looked away, Jennifer reached over to touch him. He gripped her hand briefly where she’d placed it on his thigh, just as quickly returning his hand to the wheel. She left her hand there anyway.

* * *

They sat in a little circle on her bedroom floor, Max having commandeered the music selection. Billy hadn’t said anything; but by the little smug smile on his face, she figured he was proud of Max’s choice, as classic rock pounded softly from her speakers.

They’d managed to scrounge up a decent selection; a whole platter of potato skins that had gone a little cold but were still good, some blondies, what was left of a large pot-pie, pasta salad, and a large bottle of soda that Jennifer was pretty sure had been in the back of their fridge for a while. Max and Billy – as it turned out – ate just as savagely as each other, and she had stop herself from laughing at both of them as they downed potato skins like it was a competition.

She cradled her paper plate protectively as Billy glanced over at it. “No way.” She told him, as he looked ready to snatch her untouched potato skin.

“But you’re not eating it!” Max argued, looking just as shifty.

Jennifer narrowed her eyes at the both of them. “Just because it’s not currently in my mouth does not mean I don’t plan to _enjoy_ it, you heathens.” She sniffed, and took a delicate, pointed bite. She wasn’t _really_ a fan of the food, but they didn’t need to know that.

Billy rolled his eyes, and exchanged a look with Max. In the next moment, she was bowled over by the red-head as Billy stole the whole plate from her flapping hands. “Hey!” she cried, struggling a little under Max as the girl settled triumphantly on her stomach. She huffed out a breath, watching as they split the skin, Max shoving her half into her mouth whole, before she crawled off Jennifer.

She lay there for a moment, wondering what had just happened, before Billy leant over her, eyebrow raised. “You alright there, princess?” he asked with a raised brow. She nodded, and he grabbed her slack arms and tugged her up. Max had given up on the food, and was examining her bookcase, turned away from them. Billy’s arm settled around her shoulders, almost gingerly, and she looked at him properly. With a faint sheepish look, he returned her plate, and then held up the potato skin to her mouth. She shook her head.

“All yours.” She told him. He grinned wolfishly, and bit it. “Wouldn’t have hurt to ask _nicely_.” She said.

He kept his arm around her, and promptly stole her piece of blondie. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked quietly.

Jennifer smiled despite herself. “Where’s the fun in that.” She echoed softly.

They were very close, faces almost touching, and for a moment, the arm around her felt like a brand, and she swallowed dryly, something making her drop her eyes to his mouth as his tongue darted out to catch a crumb on his bottom lip. When she met his eyes again, he was staring at her just as intently, and something hot flared in her stomach.

“Are you guys dating?” Max’s blunt voice made them spring apart, Billy dropping his arm, and Jennifer scooting back. Jennifer blinked as she met the younger girl’s accusing gaze.

“No!” she said, shooting Billy a glance to find him staring pointedly out her window. She was blushing, she could feel it. “We’re friends.”

Max made a noise, a little disbelieving, and turned away – but not before Jennifer caught her eye roll. She didn’t look back at Billy, but she could feel his eyes on her, and pressed her hands to her cheeks, willing them to cool down.


End file.
